


Ask Me No Questions, Tell Me No Lies

by agoodpersonrose



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Journalism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Meetings, Journalist!Patrick, M/M, Past Abuse, Patrick Brewer is Gay, Roses Never Lost Their Money, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodpersonrose/pseuds/agoodpersonrose
Summary: David has trusted people before, that's how he ended up walking into a gallery of his boyfriend's photographs and finding only pictures of him in his most vulnerable, displayed on the wall for all to see.So there is absolutely no way he's ever going to trust ajournalistof all people. Least of all Patrick Brewer, who seems to have taken it upon himself to tear down David's walls brick by brick.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 148
Kudos: 439





	1. Coming Home

_“In recent news, the Rose family have had quite the week. Alexis Rose, America’s little sister, has finally come out of hospital after a boating accident in the Maldives left health experts uncertain of whether she would survive the night. But Alexis is back and better than ever, and today has flown to her family home in sunny Los Angeles where her parents were awaiting her return with open arms.”_

_“You know, it’s just inspiring to see the Roses brought together by such tragedy, don’t you think Lynn?”_

_“It certainly is, Mike. But Alexis wasn’t the only Rose child to return to the family nest this week.”_

_“You’re correct, David Rose also flew across the country from New York to stay with his family. After a long, tumultuous public relationship with the famous photographer Sebastien Raine, they seem to have finally called it off for good after Mr Raine published nude photographs of Mr Rose in his art gallery, that were apparently taken without the knowledge, or consent, of David Rose or his legal team.”_

_“Well, it’s certainly been a hectic time for the Rose family, recently recovering from economic turmoil after their business manager, Eli Thompson, was caught just last year in a plot to steal the family’s wealth through a range of fraudulent behaviour. Thankfully, the Rose legacy was not toppled, and instead, their fame has only grown in the wake of such turmoil.”_

_“I for one can’t wait to see what the Roses will do next, don’t you agree?”_

_“I sure do Mike. Coming up later tonight, ‘From Rags to Riches’, the inspiring story of a family torn apart by poverty and rebuilt by the love of their community. Tune in after the break.”_

David slams the button to turn off the radio and sighs, tipping his head back against the seat of the taxi.

It’s been a long couple of weeks since he walked into Sebastien’s gallery only to be greeted by the sight of his own naked form, spread eagle on the bed; a night he can’t even remember, hung on the wall in front of him for all to see.

Thankfully, his parents were wealthy enough to pay for some of the best lawyers in the country. The Rose family had started what was likely to be a lengthy court battle with the Raine estate, and his parents were not letting up, determined on getting a significant amount of money from Sebastien Raine as repercussions for his actions.

The argument with Sebastien had been legendary, and unfortunately incredibly public. David had been so shocked, and scared, and embarrassed. He remembers how close he was to tears as he yelled at Sebastien to take down the photographs. He hadn’t, and the gallery opening had been a massive success, and now the whole world had seen David at his most vulnerable.

Fortunately, the public response to the even had come down pretty hard on David’s side. The #ProtectDavidRose and #RevengePornIsACrime hashtags had trended for a little over a week on social media, which was impressive considering how quickly people generally move on nowadays, and there had been numerous campaigns aiming to criminalise the publication of photos such as that in the Supreme Court, as well as petitions, protests, and public displays of support for David.

All this, combined with his sister almost dying, had made for a very stressful month.

David hadn’t heard from Alexis in almost three months when he heard the news. He had once thought that nothing could chill him to the bones the way the phone ringing at 4am did, as his sister requested help in the form of coloured contacts, and telephone numbers of the family lawyers, and forged passports. It turns out that not getting a phone call at all was far worse.

He had been in bed, scrolling the news on his phone when he saw the headline.

_Public figure, Alexis Rose of the Rose family corporations was found this morning unconscious on the shore of Hulhumale Beach in the Maldives. Representatives of the family say that she is currently in a stable condition at the local hospital._

David’s heart had almost stopped when he read that. He had immediately called his parents who didn’t pick up, and Alexis’ phone, which also didn’t pick up. He had eventually gotten through to the hospital that was treating her and offered to come and get her, but they had requested that he wait until they knew whether she would be sent back to the US first for treatment.

Eventually, she had been moved to the Bellevue Hospital in New York to finish her treatment, where David had been visiting her for the last few weeks.

Together, when she was discharged from the hospital and determined fit to travel, they made the decision to travel to LA to stay with their parents. David had been reluctant at first, but after his parents began calling him daily to check on him, he had agreed. He and Alexis flew together from New York to LA and climbed into the family car waiting for them at the gates.

“Why did you turn it off, David?” Alexis whines next to him, reaching over to press the button again but being slapped away before she can reach it. “Ugh, David! I’m not sitting through the rest of this drive in silence.”

“Don’t put it back on,” David says, slapping her hand again.

Alexis softens at the look on his face which is closed off, and this time reaches out her hand to hold on his arm. He flinches momentarily before relaxing into it and letting her try to comfort him.

“Hey, thank you for coming home with me. I know you didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, well. It’s probably a good thing for us all to be in the same place at once for a while since we evidently shouldn’t be on our own right now.”

Alexis hums in agreement, but there is no amusement on her face anymore.

“Plus, I should probably show my face with Mom and Dad at some point, since they are paying so much money towards this court case.”

“Have you heard anything about it?” Alexis asks, uncharacteristically gentle as she looks across the back seat at him.

David looks away, out of the window, watching the city rush past the windows. It’s just stopped raining, and the droplets are racing down the glass in feverish desperation, all trying to get ahead, all trying to escape. David shrugs at his sisters’ question, and watches as a raindrop gets stuck, before joining with another rogue droplet. Together they race to the finish line and disappear, leaving nothing but a wet line in their wake.

“I’ve given my statement, but I might have to go to court to state my case if he doesn’t give in quickly. Hopefully the lawyers will make a strong enough argument that they won’t bother disputing it and will cave to their requests. I don’t know how far Sebastien is willing to push this, though.”

They go over a bump in the road, and Alexis winces.

“How’s your back?”

“It’s fine, they told you it was just bruised right?”

“Oh what, like your arm was just bruised when you fell out of that tree in Second Grade?” David replies automatically.

Alexis lets out a little laugh and nods. “Yeah, exactly like that,” she mutters, evidently remembering the event in the same way David does.

She had insisted that she could go higher than David, and she was right; he was never good with heights even before the parasailing incident. Adelina had run out of the house at break-neck speed when she had seen Alexis’ little body crumbled by the trunk of the Elm Tree in the back yard of their huge estate. She had corralled David into the car with them while Alexis cried from the pain of what was eventually discovered to be a fractured elbow.

Their parents had critiqued Adelina for being so careless and allowing them to put themselves in danger but had played no part in the recovery. They had paid the bills and ensured that Alexis had everything she needed to be comfortable, when all she wanted was for her parents to pay attention to her. It had taken almost 6 months for her arm to heal completely, and she still argued that she could feel it twinge whenever someone lied to her.

Her hand goes to that elbow now, and he loses her to her thoughts for a while.

“What did Dad say when you told him I was coming with you?” David asks after a while, as they drive down unfamiliar residential streets.

“He seemed pretty surprised honestly, have you not spoken to them in a while?”

“Um, excuse me, when was the last time you picked up the phone to speak to them? When was the last time you picked up the phone to call _me?”_

Alexis flicks her hair over her shoulder and scowls. “I called you three months ago--”

“Yes, to ask for a fake passport!” David exclaims.

“Well, we’re going to be living in the same house now, David. You can come and see me all you want.” Alexis says, with a cheeky grin.

“Hm. How do you think Mom and Dad are going to feel about that?”

Alexis frowns at him as if surprised by his attitude towards their parents. “You really haven’t spoken to them?” She asks.

“Well, briefly, to talk about the court case- why?”

“David, they’ve been desperate to have us home for weeks now. They called the hospital every day when I was there, and it was them that made sure that I was moved to the hospital nearest you in New York. Dad said he’d been trying to contact you but that you haven’t been picking up.”

“Well, I thought they were calling to talk about the case, or to talk about you!” David says, bristling up in defence. “How was I meant to know that they actually wanted to talk to me?”

“You should be prepared, David. Last time I spoke to Dad he spent almost an hour on the phone with me apologising for being ‘distant’ and for ‘being lax with my heart’. I think they’ve changed.”

David is just about to respond with something degrading when the car pulls up to the family estate. The LA house is a large brick mansion, with climbing ivy on the walls and large collegiate architecture. The car parks just outside the steps on the gravel, and the driver jumps out, walking around the car and opening the passenger door on Alexis’ side.

“Welcome home Miss Rose, Mr Rose.”

Alexis bops the drivers nose as she clambers out, and David thanks him softly, following behind her. He’s surprised when he looks up at the house to see his parents already standing in the doorway waiting for them.

“My lost brethren, returning to the nest!” Moira cries, holding her arms out to embrace them. She holds them both close, which surprises David who has not become accustomed to physical affection in the family, but he allows it to happen. The sequins of her decorative blazer dig into his neck, and the turquoise wig tickles his nose, but both he and Alexis cling to her, desperate for the physical re-assurance of their mother’s dramatics.

“David,” his Dad chokes out. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you. I can promise that the family lawyers are doing their very best to get you some closure on the whole affair.”

“Oh, well. Thank you,” David stutters in response, finally pulling free of Moira’s embrace but leaving Alexis clutched to her side. “Um, it’s good to see you Dad.”

“You too son, come on in, let’s get you settled.”

***

It turns out, contrary to David’s expectations, his and Alexis’ guest rooms are right across from each other, and just down the hall from his parents’ rooms. It’s a fact that surprises him even as his Dad shows him his room, and even offers to help him unpack before disappearing somewhere on the search for Alexis.

Once his clothes are all neatly lined up in the cedar chest his parents had already placed in the corner of his room, and the rest of his clothes hung in the dresser, it’s almost time for dinner.

David heads down to the kitchen and is surprised to find his Dad already there.

“David!” He exclaims on seeing his son enter. “I suppose you’re getting hungry after a long day of travelling?”

“Um, sure. I was just going to get something and take it back up to my room so--”

“Nonsense, son. We’ll be eating soon, once Sofia has finished with the chicken. You know, she’s been teaching me how to cook it these past couple of weeks, soon enough I might even be able to work my way through the meal myself. With a little help of course.”

David turns to the cook for confirmation. He hasn’t met her before, but that is to be expected considering he hasn’t visited his parents at their home in almost five years, and even then, it had been their old house in the hills. In comparison, their current house is positively tiny, with only enough rooms for the necessary house guests, and none of the old lavish accessories of before. The Roses remain in luxury, but their wealth is far more subdued ever since the tax evasion scare of just a year before; it seems that plus their children’s personal crises has encouraged the Roses to downscale everything to a more maintainable level.

“He’s getting very good,” Sofia says with a nod as she bustles about the kitchen. “I have never worked for anyone who was so interested in what I do, and Mr Rose is a very quick learner.”

David can tell that she’s exaggerating, but the image of his father regularly spending time with one of his employees and asking them to teach him about their work is enough to make him smile.

“You know, maybe at some point you’d like to join me, David. We could have a crack at it together, a little father and son bonding time.”

“Mm, I think that’s a hard pass," David bristles.

Johnny looks disappointed but not at all surprised by this dismissal, and he nods understandingly. “I guess it might take us a little while yet to work up to that point, huh?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

This new version of his parents continues into dinner. They sit around a normal sized wooden table on the other side of the kitchen that would usually be reserved for the staff. David watches as his Dad thanks Sofia for her help, and she goes home with a wave, leaving the family to serve up their own food.

It would be refreshing if David weren’t so suspicious of his parents’ actions.

Alexis, however, doesn’t appear surprised at all by all the massive changes. Her and Moira sit close at dinner, talking in low voices about some celebrity gossip that has been spread around, and laughing together.

David watches as his parents fawn over his sister, all the while sending nervous and almost guilty looks in his direction.

“-- I’m sure that you’ll be excited to see Stevie again.”

This pulls David back into the conversation.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Johnny repeats himself quickly. “I was just saying that you must be excited to see Stevie again.”

“Oh, um, will I be seeing Stevie again?” He asks, biting his lip.

Stevie was hired several years ago as David’s publicist in New York. They had had a short fling that had ended up with him deciding it would be better if they were friends. Stevie left soon after to move to LA and work externally in order to avoid their awkward transition from romantic relationship to clumsy friendship. Technically, she still works for the Rose family, but he hadn’t seen her in over a year.

“Well yes, son. We took it upon ourselves to set up a meeting between the two of you tomorrow to try and sort your image out after the whole Sebastien debacle.”

“Oh, and I suppose that being photographed without permission is bad for the family image? Because believe me it was much more than that from my position,” David snarls, curling his lip up at his parents moodily.

“Don’t be so prickly, David. We know that this has been an arduous situation for you and we want to do everything we can to make it easier,” Moira chimes in, shaking her head disapprovingly at him. “Now, you don’t have to go to the meeting if you don’t want to, but it wouldn’t be a detriment for you to be reminded that you are not on your own here, and Stevie is a familiar if not so friendly face.”

***

Despite David’s reservations, seeing Stevie does offer some temporary relief.

He walks into the study on the ground floor of his parents’ house, prepared for an uncomfortable hour of them pretending nothing had ever happened between them. Instead, he is greeted by a momentary sympathetic glance, before Stevie immediately reverts back to their past patterns of sarcastic humour disguising real fondness.

She doesn’t stand up from where she is sat behind his father’s large mahogany desk, and David can’t be bothered with politeness, instead collapsing down in the chair across from her in exaggerated exhaustion.

“So, what are you going to suggest to ‘fix my image’ then?” He asks simply, cutting straight to the point rather than sitting through awkward small talk about the weather and what they’ve both been up to recently.

Stevie rolls her eyes, putting her conversed feet on top of the desk in a casual way and flopping back into the chair. She is the antonym of this room; a country girl who’s made it big in the generosity of a wealthy family, and yet she refuses to be made uncomfortable in their environment.

“David, your image doesn’t need to be fixed, it needs to be maintained.”

“Okay, so what does that even mean?” He pushes.

“Well, right now you are one of the most popular names in the business. Everyone is talking about the tragedies of the Rose family. It’s going to do a lot of good for Mrs Roses new film, and she’s looking to rake in some real money from that deal.”

David scoffs. “Isn’t it a thriller about mutant crows?”

“Well yes, I think she said it ends with some sort of ‘crowpocalypse’? But that’s not the point. The Rose family will be in the headlines again, and this time it won’t be because Alexis almost died, or because you look great naked.”

“Okay,” David mutters, barely repressing the smile that fights to emerge at her blasé attitude over the whole affair. It’s reassuring to know that one person at least isn’t looking at him any differently.

“--it’ll be because you have talent. Mrs Rose is going to bring your family out of this bout of popularity and push you into something new, and we need to run with this momentum.”

“This is all sounding very optimistic and everything, but what are you intending on having me do?”

Stevie pulls her legs off the desk and crosses them, leaning forward to explain it to him in the simplest of terms.

“Look, the Rose family is the most famous you’ve ever been. I propose that we focus on maintaining this in the easiest of ways. You need to be a cohesive group right now, present a united front to the rest of the world. Be like a familial version of the Kardashians.”

“I don’t know how much of the Kardashians you’ve watched, but they are a family.”

Stevie rolls her eyes. “Well yes, I know that. But they’re a messy family, their popularity is based on their arguments, it’s rooted in conflict. What we want is to build on the idea that people already have about your family. That you’re a close-knit unit, and that you have each other’s back.”

David frowns as he takes that in, thinking about all the news he had seen about his family on social media and in the news in recent weeks. The world seemed to think that they were some cohesive, loving unit, or at least, loving enough that the Rose children would return to their parents’ arms at the first sign of trouble in their private life.

“You want to make people think that we’re some sort of happy family? Is this why they have been acting all weird, trying to spend time with me, and being all- all supportive?” David asks slowly, disbelief etched on his features. It makes sense that his parents would act differently to further their wealth and popularity in society, but it's disappointing nonetheless.

“David, your parents love you. I’ve not said any of this to them. Look, I know you haven’t been in contact with them in a long time, and I know how much they’ve hurt you in the past, but you didn’t see them when they heard about Alexis, or about your situation with Sebastien. They were so upset and- and guilty, I think they genuinely want to help fix things for you.”

“Right,” David says, disbelief evident in his tone.

“Do you want to hear the rest of the plan?”

“Why not, what’s the rest of the plan?” He asks, waving a hand at her to continue.

“The best way of keeping your name in rotation at the moment is by making sure all of you are in the public eye. Now, Mr Rose has his businesses, Mrs Rose has her film, and Alexis is going to be talking to her agent about a reality TV stint with a few other major names.”

“Okay, and what are you intending for me to do?” David asks, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

“There’s a new cosmetics company that is looking for a sponsor. They’ve pitched an idea to us, and I’ve said that you would consider it. They want to create a brand for you called ‘Rosie Day’, it would be made up of high-quality skin care and that sort of thing, and you would promote them under your own label.”

“I’m sorry, you want my label to be ‘Rosie Day’?”

Stevie winces and tips her head to one side. “Well, that wouldn’t be your label, your label is the same as your parents, you’re a part of Rose Family Corporations. But yes, ‘Rosie Day’ would be the name of the skincare and the chain of products that is under your name.” She says the last part slowly, as if embarrassed to even say it.

“Why are we even doing all this?” David asks quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

“Your parents almost lost everything three times over, David. I think they just want a bit of security. Now, they know about the brand sponsorship, but I’ll be talking to Mr Rose about the presentation of a ‘family brand’ in my meeting with him this afternoon. I wanted to run it by you first but it’s something that the PR firm has been discussing for a while now.”

“Can I at least think about it?” He asks. “Before I agree to all of this, because I don’t know if I want to- if I’m willing to be tied back into the Rose Corporations. I thought I had escaped that in New York.”

“You have a week to decide before the brand will turn to someone else as a sponsor,” Stevie says simply. “I need you to let me know before then.”

“And what about the rest of it? The ‘rebuilding the family brand’ and the ‘presenting a cohesive family unit’? How long do I have to decide about that?”

She stands up and rounds the desk, frowning at him. “Your parents don’t want you to pretend to be a happy family, David. I think they just want their son back. You can let them know about that as soon as you’re ready.”

***

Over the next couple of days, David takes the time to watch his parents both in their interactions with each other, and with him and Alexis. Stevie is right, they have changed; somehow, they have gone from frankly neglectful when it came to their children, to helicopter parents in the course of a few weeks.

He spends a few days alone, or with Alexis in their rooms. They catch up on each other’s lives, and experiences, carefully avoiding discussion of the reasons they ended up moving back in with their parents, and instead sticking closely to the amusing and shocking tales of other big names.

They watch films, and they eat junk food, and they generally recover from what has been a genuinely traumatic few weeks, leaning on the familiarity of their bickering and disagreements to make themselves feel better.

On the third day, David relents to his mother’s requests that he help her rearrange her wigs. He spends the day holed away in her room, carefully brushing and conditioning various hair pieces, with his mother hovering and correcting his handling of her ‘girls’.

_“A gentler touch should do it, David.”_

_“I am being--”_

_“See! You’re clutching Giselle with such ferocity, you’ll damage her!”_

He spends the next afternoon with his father, watching him cook with Sofia. The gentleness that Johnny displays in his careful copying makes something in David soften, and he thinks about what Stevie had said about his Dad being different. It’s the first time he’s looked at Johnny Rose as less of the family patriarch, and more as a father. The look suits him.

By the fifth day, he’s made his mind up.

Stevie Budd   
  
i'll do the brand sponsorship   
  
I'm glad to hear it. I'll set it up.   
  
and the rest of it. i'll do the family thing as well   
  
Of course.

He tells his parents the same night, over their sixth family dinner in a row. They startle when he starts to talk, having grown accustomed to their eldest son remaining aloof and silent during these meals, but their gentle smiles reveal how relieved they are that he is beginning to let some of his walls down.

“Um, so you know that family image thing that Stevie mentioned? The cosmetics sponsor, and the family brand?” David starts, awkwardly pushing artichoke hearts around his plate with his fork.

“Well, yes son, what about it?”

“I think I want to do it.” He says slowly. “The cosmetics brand, and the appearing in public together, the premieres and the parties and everything. I’ll do it, um, if that’s what you still want.”

“Okay dear.” Is all Moira says in response, but she’s watching him with the closest thing to a maternal look he has ever seen from her. He can’t help but feel like he’s made the right choice, regardless of how difficult it may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been a behind the scenes passion project for a long time. I'm hoping to make it an even 10 chapters but that is subject to the rest of the writing and where the story naturally progresses. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and let me know what you think in the comments! 📸


	2. The Premiere

One major aspect of being a part of the Rose Family Corporation had always been attending major events as a group. The Rose family takes their attendance at such events incredibly seriously, as seen in the premiere of the Crows Movie, only a few weeks after David moved back in with his parents.

The day of the premiere sees the whole house in total chaos. Makeup artists and hairdresser’s bustle around everywhere, and the faint shrieks of Moira’s complaints can be heard regardless of where in the house you stand.

David decides to lean into the chaos and enjoy it a little. His parents have been far too delicate with him, and he’s starting to feel a little strangled by their forced affection, so the refocus on the red-carpet event is a welcome change.

“David- _David!”_ Alexis yells as she catches him on the stairs. “Come and help me pick my jewellery.”

He sighs but doesn’t resist much, following her into her large room, the mirror image of his own except for the destruction that seems to have been ravaged inside.

“Oh my God,” He exclaims as he enters, looking around at the mess of clothes, jewellery and literal trash scattered across the floor. “What happened in here? Did a bomb go off- were you robbed?”

“Ugh, no David. I have a lot of stuff right now, and Mom and Dad stop hiring maids, so I have to like, clean all of this by myself.”

“Mm, must be such a hardship for you,” David says, flopping his hands down in a practiced move, known to get a reaction from Alexis. “Have you tried starting by putting your things away, in the various closets and drawers scattered around the room?”

He absently pulls open one of her drawers, and gapes at the mess in there as well.

“Good God,” He mutters, struggling to push it closed again as something jams inside.

“Can you please focus on why I invited you in here?” Alexis asks, leaping over the mess with practiced ease, and holding up two different earrings. “Which one?”

“Not the pearls, Mom’s wearing pearls she’ll be furious.”

Alexis hums in agreement and puts the pearls away.

“Why did Mom and Dad stop hiring a maid?” David asks, continuing to poke around in Alexis’ things, occasionally drawing back in disgust when he finds something truly grim.

“Dad said it was something to do with cutting back. I think the whole situation with Eli really freaked him out, and now he’s being like, really careful with money and stuff.”

“Is that why he’s learning to cook? Is he going to fire Sofia?” David tries to keep the panic out of his voice, but in the past few weeks he had grown incredibly fond of her cooking and was unwilling to lose that in favour of his Dad’s slightly desperate attempts at learning to cook.

“Mm, absolutely not, but he doesn’t want to hire two people, and Sofia already takes weekends off. He also said something about not wanting to call her back from her daughter’s wedding, and something about Adelina. Which necklace?”

“The cluster ones, the neckline of your dress is really low.”

Alexis nods and puts the necklace to one side. “So, are you ready for all the questions we’re going to get tonight?” She asks, now digging through a pile of shoes in the bottom of her closet.

David freezes in his journey around the room and looks at her slowly, panic already rising on his face. “Questions? What questions? I thought it was a red-carpet event.”

“Well, yeah. But there will be like, journalists there and stuff.”

David raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, to talk about the movie.”

“What is there to ask, David? It’s a ‘crowmageddon’ movie. Stevie told me we would all be walking the carpet separately, why would we be doing that to talk about the film?”

“Well I- Why are we walking separately. Nobody told me- I didn’t even know we were walking the red carpet I just thought we were watching Mom do it!”

“Oh my God, calm down David it’ll be fine. People will be much more interested in me anyway since I’m the one who almost died.”

David has started pacing across the small bare patch of floor in the corner.

“Alexis, they’re going to ask about the court case- they’re going to ask about the photos! I’m not ready for this, the lawyers are still in negotiations, what am I- what am I going to say? That I’m suing him?”

Alexis winces guiltily and crosses the room to get to him. “David! Listen to me,” she says, grabbing his shoulders to stop the movement. “Is this a super awkward situation for you? Sure. But this isn’t about you- this is about Mom, and the ‘family brand’. All you have to do is be charming and slightly illusive, and everything will be completely fine.”

“How do I- But how do I do that? I can’t be charming; nobody thinks I’m charming.”

“You could be charming,” Alexis replies, looking him up and down with a look that betrays that she definitely doesn’t believe what she’s saying. “I mean, maybe not charming then, maybe just stick to illusive.”

“Oh my God,” David mutters, covering his face with his hands.

 _“David!”_ Moira screeches from somewhere in the house. _“David! Get into your suit- we need to ensure that our colour schemes aren’t inharmonious!”_

***

Three hours, several breakdowns, and an innumerable amount of stress later, the Roses meet in the opening hall of the house, all dressed in their finery and ready for the event.

Moira’s pale pink dress is the height of luxury, and contrasts perfectly with Johnny’s dark black suit. Alexis is donned in a darker shade of pink, her golden jewellery glittering in the light and her long blonde hair tied up in a high pony at the back of her head.

David’s suit is black, but unlike his father’s, it is covered in silver threaded flowers across his shoulders and down his arms making a cape like illusion. The fabric is soft, and luxurious, and his shoes shine brightly from any angle.

His hair is styled to perfection as usual, and he walks with a straight back and raised head, trying to display the confidence he certainly isn’t feeling.

“Well, don’t we make quite the sight to behold!” Johnny exclaims, clapping his hands together at his family in front of him. “Are we all ready to go?”

They nod in assent, and as they head out to the cars, Moira grasps her son’s arm tightly, pulling him to a stop. “You’ll be fine,” she mutters under her breath, before straightening up and heading with her husband towards the first car, leaving Alexis and David to take the second.

The flash of cameras and chatter of the red carpet is not a sight that David had missed in his brief recess from his mother’s fame. It’s overwhelming, and Alexis shoots him one final concerned look before plastering on her winning smile and climbing out to face the crowds.

David waits a minute as instructed for her to make it a little way down the carpet before climbing out to join her. He doesn’t smile, instead looking around with what he hopes is a serene expression and tries not to think about throwing up or doing anything equally embarrassing in front of the hordes of people.

Alexis works the carpet like an expert, following a few steps behind her parents with her hand on her hip, posing and pouting and playing up to the crowds. She answers the questions she wants and brushes off those she doesn’t with a simple smile and shake of the head.

David watches in awe for a moment before someone nudges him to the first stopping point. He stands and faces the cameras, flashing in front of his face, and focuses on maintaining his calm, closed-mouth smile and not blinking at the wrong time.

_“David! Mr Rose- over here, with Pop Magazine. What was your response to Sebastien Raine’s accusation that you knew about the photographs, and gave your willing consent for them to be published?”_

David winces but shakes it off, trying to copy the ease of his sister before him.

_“David. Will you be continuing with the court case should Mr Raine’s lawyers dispute your claim against his estate?”_

_“What would you say in response to those who claim that your relationship with Mr Raine was integral to the success of your many New York galleries?”_

_“Following on from that- how would you respond to the claims that your galleries were only an illusion to success, built on the wealth of your parents who bought your patrons.”_

This one makes David freeze. He scans the small group of journalists and zeroes in on the young woman who had yelled the question.

“What did you just say?” He asks.

“Recent allegations have claimed that your galleries were only a front, funded by your parents to keep you busy in the city.”

David can’t think of anything to say. His attempt at a smile has completely gone, and he gapes at the woman, who is watching him with a wide smile, and a pleased look on her face.

“I’ll take it you hadn’t heard these rumours before?” She asks, pushing the microphone towards him as if expecting an answer.

The security guards give him the signal to move to the next stopping point, which he does, wandering in the pointed direction with a lost expression on his face. This section is a line of individual journalists; far less intimidating than the group of before, and with less flashing lights, but this time the interview will be recorded.

“Hello David, we’re with Buzzfeed.”

“Mhm.” David nods.

“Now, we were wondering how exactly the choice to move back in with your parents was made? Were threats made by the Raine estate against your safety, or was there something else which prompted the decision?”

“Um- I wanted to be with my sister after everything that happened. We wanted to be together as a family so that we could support each other,” he says, slowly managing to get his energy back.

The interviewer nods. They are clearly not satisfied with the answer and decides to take a different approach. “Now, you have recently been voted as number four on a list of ‘New York’s Hottest Men’. How do you feel knowing that you have dated all three of the people that beat you to the top spot?”

David forces out a laugh, “Flattered?”

He smiles weakly through the rest of the interview, before being led on to the next stop.

“Hi Mr Rose. My name is Patrick Brewer, I work for ‘Ray of Light’ Publications.”

David blinks as the next journalist holds out a hand and shakes it tentatively, an act of politeness that is so rarely given in interviews. It shocks him enough that he raises his head to take a proper look at the brown-haired man behind the gate in front of him. He’s cute, innocent looking with a sort of boyish charm to him. He looks like someone that helps at the local food bank, not a hard-hitting journalist, but that perhaps makes him all the more dangerous.

“Um, hi,” he says softly.

“Mr Rose. I was a huge fan of your exhibit in New York,” Patrick is saying. “Can you tell us anything about how you chose what art to include in your exhibitions, or what made a piece of art worthy of being included in your prestigious collection.”

The question shocks David, and he flounders for a minute, gaping at the man in surprise.

“What- What do you mean by that?”

Patrick smiles slightly, and patiently asks the question again, with just a slightly different wording. “Well, I guess I’m asking what aspects of art make it so important to you?”

“Who- Why would you assume that things were- important to me?”

“Well, you did base your living on the collection and display of art in your galleries in New York. I was just curious about why you have devoted so much of your time to art specifically, and whether or not this is something you will continue to pursue in the future, whether it be in a private collection or in public galleries like before.”

“Um- I guess, when it means something to the person viewing it, and when it encourages people to feel emotion I think- I think that is the important thing?”

Patrick gives him a bemused look, which frustrates David to no end.

“How about this, I read a few years ago in an interview that you not only collect art, but have also spent a large amount of time on your own personal work; drawings and paintings that you don’t share with the public. What inspires you as a collector, or as an artist in your own right, to focus so much of your life in the arts, and what determines what is meant for the public, and what should remain private?”

“Um, I think art is- it’s something that transcends everyday society,” David says slowly.

“Do you mean that in the sense that art is physically beautiful, or that art has a deeper meaning that only the individual can comprehend on a more personal scale?”

“I didn’t- Just because I like beautiful things doesn’t mean I gave my permission to be- to be violated if that’s what you’re asking.” He says, baring his teeth slightly at the man. “No matter what Sebastien calls them, those photographs are not art. I am not art, I’m just- I didn’t ask for it.”

“I wasn’t implying that you did Mr Rose--”

“--and another thing! Even if I did give him consent to take the photos, which I didn’t, that does not give anyone the right to share photos like that. If I decide to be vulnerable in front of one person that doesn’t mean they have a right to share that vulnerability with whoever they like. I choose who I am vulnerable in front of, but those photos are not me being vulnerable, they are me being exposed on a huge scale. There is nothing beautiful about them.”

He points a finger at Patrick angrily, not even trying to hold back his evident fury at the question. Patrick nods, and has the respect to look apologetic at David’s outburst.

“I understand, Mr Rose. I completely agree.”

“You can stop with the Mr Rose thing as well. It’s annoying, and I’m not my Dad.”

“Understood.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here, right- are we done here?” David asks Patrick, narrowing his eyes at him and daring him to disagree.

“Sure, David. Thank you for your time.”

David turns and continues down the carpet with his chin in the air. He makes it through the last few interviews by the skin of his teeth, standing and smiling and managing not to yell at any more of the journalists, before he’s spat out at the end of the line and allowed to re-join his family.

“What happened over there?” Alexis asks, nodding over at where Patrick is interviewing one of Moira’s castmates, and laughing at something. David feels a stab of guilt as he watches the brown-haired man smile and nod at the actor in front of him now who is apparently saying something wildly amusing.

He scowls as Stevie joins him from the side-lines.

“What? I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true!” He exclaims, crossing his arms against his chest defensively. “And he was very snippy!”

“Jesus Christ, David. He was perfectly polite! If you had yelled at any of those other journalists, I could have forgiven it, but this is not going to look good- you yelled at the first person that doesn’t ask you about Sebastien. It’s going to make it look like you’re digging for attention.”

“Alright kids let’s not linger on the negatives--” Johnny says, interrupting them and leading them towards the front door of the building. “What is done is done, now, tonight is about appreciating your mother’s success.”

The three of them turn and follow Johnny towards the screen room with a few more passive remarks about David’s falling image, and one lingering look back at the brown-haired man, who doesn’t spare a glance for David as he walks away.

***

The rest of the premiere goes without any more setbacks. The film is predictably awful, but they smile through it, and give their positive reviews to their mother who laps them up with glee.

Stevie spends the night at the Rose house and continues to be grumpy with David well into the next morning, when he is awoken by a loud banging of fists on his bedroom door. He climbs out of bed to answer it.

“You know, if this comes back and bites me in the ass, I’ll never let you forget it.” Stevie moans, granting herself access to his room and sitting down in the centre of his king-sized bed.

“Good morning, Stevie. Would you like to come in?” David says, waving a hand as if to offer her entry sarcastically before following her and crawling under his covers.

“I’m being serious David.”

“Well what do you want me to do about it? Publicly apologise? It’s more than Sebastien has done, and I never took nude photos of this guy and made money off them.” David says, pulling the duvet over his head and burrowing into his bed as if to escape this conversation.

“If you get bad publicity because of this then yes, David. That’s exactly what I want you to do about it. Also, you can apologise to Mr Brewer personally, I happen to have met him several times and I like him, so--”

“Oh, so I’ve offended your boyfriend, is that what this is all about?”

This gets Stevie to look up from her tablet, where she is furiously tapping away as usual. “What? No, obviously not. I just don’t like to go around making an enemy of people that I may end up bumping into around my job.”

“When are we ever going to see him again?”

“He’s a journalist, David. You are a celebrity. Put it together.”

“I thought that worked like birds.” David says, his voice muffled by the covers. “You’ll never realise if you meet the same one twice.”

Stevie pulls a pillow out from behind her back and smacks him in the vague approximation of his head.

“I forgot how much of a jerk you are,” she grumbles, making herself comfortable again against the headboard. “It might be good for you to pay attention to the people you’re talking to in situations like these. I mean, that is if you actually want me to make you seem likeable.”

“I am likeable!”

“Tell that to--” she trails off, and David sticks his head back out from under the covers, frowning at her.

“What?”

She doesn’t reply, furrowing her brows instead at the tablet resting in her lap.

“Stevie- what is it?”

“Shh- sh.”

She presses a button on the tablet and a video starts playing. David can hear Patrick’s voice ring out through the speakers and tries to resist the instinct to bury his head back under the sheets to hide his red cheeks.

_“You heard it here; The Crows Have Eyes III is a must-see attraction for those of you who enjoy a thriller comedy mix. It is not without its faults, and yet the film manages to be a cohesive mix of amusing, and shocking, and the shining star Moira Rose takes centre stage, as to be expected by the well renowned actress. As for the Rose family itself, little can be said other than that this is a group of people whose relationship has been strengthened by difficulty. They have somehow managed to come back from significant hardship as a cohesive unit founded in mutual affection and appreciation. They must be applauded for their strength, and compassion, and staunch outlook on what is right and wrong. That’s all for us today at ‘Ray of Light’. Goodbye.”_

The recording stops, and David turns to look at Stevie, confusion etched into his features.

“Oh my God,” she mutters, already scrolling again. “Nothing- He didn’t say anything about it, in the video or in his written report, it’s just- not mentioned.”

“What--”

“He could have made so much money from that- he was the only person you gave any real footage to last night. Any other journalist would jump at the chance to publish your little emotional tirade.”

“What- What does this mean?”

Stevie finally looks up. “Either you just got extremely lucky, or Patrick Brewer is a genuinely nice person.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins! Patrick is obviously the most moral journalist in the world and David immediately hates him for it, because that's how it always goes.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!! Let me know what you thought in the comments! 📸


	3. Truth Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Streetlamp_sunset and InEveryUniverse for being so amazing and looking at the next few chapters for me! 🌼

If there’s one thing David misses about New York, it’s the food. LA has many things; attractions, shops, beaches. But nothing will ever compare to the feeling of wandering down a bustling New York street, slipping into an easy-to-miss doorway, and discovering a buried treasure of delectable cuisine. There were coffee shops, and pizzerias, and the ice cream parlours serving soft gelato on a cone or in a tub; David had never found anywhere that would compare to the miniature tastes of heaven that New York offered him.

In LA, all David had managed to find so far was one overpriced bistro in Santa Monica, with minimal aesthetic integrity reducing the chance of being accidentally caught on camera by a wannabe Instagram influencer, and a quiet environment.

Which is where he finds himself two days after the premiere, stuffed into a corner booth at ‘Twyla’s Bistro’, his sunglasses on and head buried in a comically oversized menu.

“Hi, David. What can I get you?” Twyla herself asks as she approaches the table.

“Um, can I try the avocado toast with extra bacon on it, please?” he asks, smiling up at her. “Oh, and a fill up of the coffee--”

“Caramel Macchiato, skimmed milk, two sweeteners and a sprinkle of cocoa powder. I’ve got it,” she replies with a smile.

Twyla is sweet, and well meaning, and has never alerted the paparazzi to his regular visits to her bistro on Saturday afternoons. He has no idea how her business is surviving considering its prime location yet constant lack of customers, but he enjoys spending time here when the peace of his family home has run down, and some new crisis emerges.

This morning, Alexis had shown their mother a picture of Meryl Streep wearing a dress not dissimilar to her premiere gown and she had lost it. The shouting was bad until she started loudly sobbing at the mere concept of a ‘Who Wore it Best’ article that was apparently an ‘imminent result of such a crisis’.

David had been glad to escape.

He takes the opportunity to catch up with some reading, making himself at home in his seat and sparing a glance around the otherwise empty room.

His food arrives and he digs in with fervour, enjoying the simplicity of the food if not the actual flavour. He is just getting to the good part of his story. The fake princess is just about to be struck down by a glittering silver sword, and she is focusing on the glint of the silver blade against the aqua sky and accepting her fate when--

David glances up as another patron enters the bistro. He sits down in a table diagonally across from the booth, only visible from the back. David can’t help but appreciate the curve of his ass in the tight Levi jeans as he takes his seat before turning back to his book.

Just as the sword is about to fall on the young woman and end her life for her lie, a booming voice of the prince calls across the courtyard.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

David jumps in his seat, splattering coffee over the corner of his book and hissing in frustration. He looks up to see the man from before, stood cautiously by the side of the table with a guilty expression on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I wasn’t- startled. That makes me sound like some stray abandoned puppy. You just surprised me is all,” David replies, grabbing at the napkins and mopping up his mess.

When he looks up, the man is just smirking slightly at him.

“I take it this seat is free?”

“Well, yeah- yes, it is,” David says frowning, “But it’s a booth, it’s nailed to the ground, you can’t- move it.”

He looks even more amused as he slides into the booth and sits opposite David.

“Oh, you meant to sit in.”

“Yes, I meant to sit in. It’s really good to see you again, David. I was hoping we’d bump into each other.”

Suddenly, everything clicks in his head, and David narrows his eyes at the man across from him. “Oh, you’re Patrick, right?” He asks, “Patrick Brewer? You were the one that didn’t ask me about- that asked me about my job.”

“I am, I am. And you’re David Rose.”

David sighs, feeling the frustration bubbling within him already, “Yes- You obviously know that. You were very--”

“What?” Patrick prompts, looking far too much like he’s enjoying this conversation for his own good, “Professional? Polite? Charming?”

“I was going to say humble.”

Patrick laughs and shakes his head, “Can I have breakfast with you, David? Or do you want me to go?”

David hums non committedly and swirls his coffee in his hand. He can feel Patrick’s eyes on him, and squirms under the weight of his gaze. Finally, Patrick sighs, and his body loses some of its confidence.

“Look, I’m sorry for what happened at the premiere. I can honestly tell you that I was trying to be respectful of you and your privacy, and that’s why I was trying to focus on your career and your achievements rather than- you know- your private life.”

Patrick can’t know it, but this stings far worse than anything he had said before. Suddenly, David is reminded of what that interviewer had said at the premiere.

_“Your galleries were only a front, funded by your parents to keep you busy in the city.”_

Patrick must be able to see the way his whole body tenses and retracts from the conversation. He reaches out a hand to try and apologise, but the damage is done.

“David? I’m sorry are you--”

“You don’t know anything about me. You can stop following me and digging for a story because you’re not going to get one,” David snarls, standing up out of the booth and clenching and unclenching his hands to try and stop from descending into panicked breathing. “You might as well post those videos from the other night because you’re not going to get anything better than that, and it might get you your five minutes of fame if you’re lucky.”

“David I’m not here for any kind of story, I--”

“I am sick of being the world’s plaything and I have no interest in you invading my safe space to ask me questions that I don’t have the answer to and I--”

David cuts off as he feels the tears beginning to build, he scrunches up his eyes to try and stop them from coming, but to no avail, as a small trail falls down his cheek, tickling his skin as it goes.

“I appreciate you not sharing the video from the other night, but I won’t be held hostage by you for doing me a basic kindness. If that is what this is. So, share the video, or don’t, I don’t care.”

He can hear Patrick saying his name again softly as he heads for the door, but he’s too lost in his own thoughts to care.

***

He goes home in a far worse mood than when he had left. The house is quiet when he enters, and he heads straight to his room to spend the rest of the afternoon alone watching Netflix and feeling sorry for himself.

Unfortunately, this aim is quickly ruined by a knock on the door.

“What?” he yells, looking up from his reclined position on the bed to glare at the interruption. He reaches for the remote control and pauses his show.

His Dad’s head sticks around the door looking hesitant.

“What do you want?”

“Well, son,” he says, stepping fully into the room with his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t make an appearance at dinner, so I just thought I’d come up and check that you were- okay?”

It’s so clearly out of his comfort zone that David considers feeling sorry for him for a moment, but then it all comes rushing back, and the rage returns.

“You thought you’d get involved in my private business again? Is that it?” he asks, flopping back onto the pillows in a clear dismissive move, and pushing his white sunglasses further up his face to block out the conversation.

Johnny pulls the seat from the corner up to the side of the bed and sits in it.

“David, are you going to tell me what this is about?”

David turns his head and lowers his glasses to peer over them at his father.

“No.”

He rolls over onto his side, turning his back on his Dad. He hears the door open and close, and assumes that it’s the sound of him leaving, so jumps when his mother’s voice rings out across the room.

“Day-vid,” she drawls, “Won’t you tell us what this despondent temperament is caused by? We can’t assist you if we aren’t kept aw-are. Has something happened with Sebastien?”

He finally rolls back up and sits up. His parents both look at him hopefully, which just makes his mood worse.

“You funded my galleries in New York,” he says quietly.

“Well yes, we provided the start-up funds for them,” Johnny says slowly. “But, the rest of it, that was all, you?” In a questioning tone.

“Was it really?”

“Yes, son.”

David looks up to see his mother looking away guiltily, running her hands across the curtain on his window.

“Mom?”

She groans, “You can’t blame us, David. We were just trying to look out for you.”

The fury washes over David in a white wave, filling his senses and making his whole body tense as he looks on at his parents. “You know, I have spent my whole life trying to step out from under your shadow. The galleries- my galleries were the one thing that I had done all on my own.”

“Yes, David. You did them all on your own--”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” He asks, bordering on deranged as he clenches his bed sheets in his fists. “You paid for my patrons, my investors, they were all- they were _all_ you?”

“We were doing it to protect you!” Moira exclaims. Johnny stands up in an attempt to calm the room however it does nothing but frustrate David further.

“Protect me from what?”

“Your father and I never prepared you for an undertaking such as that. You were grossly under-experienced, David. Your galleries would have gone under within the change of the season!”

“--and whose fault is that? I didn’t _ask_ for your help!”

“That’s exactly why it was necessary for us to help you, David. If you failed, you might never have recovered. We couldn’t stand by and watch that happen to our only son.”

“You didn’t even let me _try!”_

The conversation has fallen into a full-on shouting match, drawing the attention of Alexis who hovers in the doorway watching in confusion. “What is happening here?” she asks, fiddling her hooped earring around her finger.

“Just go,” David snarls at his parents, who immediately take the instruction. Johnny leads his wife out of the room by the shoulders with one final guilty look at David.

Alexis hesitates for a few more minutes, before following their parents down the corridor with a curious look.

David digs his phone out from under the covers.

Stevie   
  
they didnt just fund my galleries. they bought all the patrons.   
  
What are we talking about again?   
  
my parents, it was all fake, nobody bought art from my galleries, they paid people to do it.   
  
I'll be there in 20 mins.   
  
bring booze   
  
and pizza   
  
I'm not an amateur.

Stevie lives up to her promise and is there within the hour. Considering LA traffic and the fact that she had to stop for both alcohol and pizza, David has no complaints. He fixes her with his most grateful smile as he gorges himself on the proffered treats.

“So, wait, run this by me again,” Stevie says, after half a bottle of vodka is gone and a considerable amount of pizza. “You ran into Patrick again, nice Patrick, who didn’t post the video of you yelling at him at the premiere.”

“Yes.”

“--and the first thing you do is yell at him, again, in public.”

David screws up his face and grabs another slice of pizza, “You know, this is never going to be as good as the New York style pizza. Do you ever get used to it?”

“Never,” Stevie replies. “It’s a constant disappointment.”

He snorts a laugh as he bites into the thin crust pepperoni, licking the tangy sauce from his lips as he considers his next statement.

“He told me that he didn’t want to focus on my private life. He wanted to focus on the ‘success of my professional life’, and it just- it brought it all back, what the woman at the premiere said.”

“Have you spoken to your parents about it yet?”

“Yes, but we really don’t need to get into that right now. They just- they didn’t even let me try, Stevie. They didn’t even have enough faith in me to let me try. I thought I was free of the Rose Family Corporations when I was in New York, but I’ve never been free of it, and now I’m like, right back in it.”

“What does this have to do with Patrick?”

“He seemed so impressed by me, and everything I did in New York, and it was all a lie. I wasn’t a success in New York, I was just another rich, spoiled child whose parents didn’t even trust him enough to let him fail.”

“So, you yelled at him?”

“Mhm,” David hums in confirmation through the crust of his pizza. “It was really mean as well- I got really loud.”

“Ooh, I know how loud you can get,” Stevie giggles into her mug of vodka.

“Ew!” David exclaims, throwing the final bite of crust at her. “Don’t remind me of that low point.”

He flops across the bed so that his head is hanging over the edge and lets out a loud moan. “I don’t know what happened, he was just sitting there, being all friendly and respectful, and asking to eat breakfast with me, and it’s just- it's suspicious, don’t you think, considering his job, that he would be so- nice, and polite. It must be a method, a way of getting more out of me so that he can write a really good report about how much of a diva I am.”

“He asked to have breakfast with you?”

“That’s what you got from that?” David asks, pulling his head up so that his chin hits his chest, looking over at Stevie with furrowed brows.

She giggles at his weirdly angled face and leans back on her elbow casually sipping from the mug.

“Look,” she starts, turning the conversation to a more serious tone like the click of a switch. “I know that you have a mixed bag of a past, and I know that you’ve been burned before, but some people are just nice. I can promise you, you don’t have to like him, and you don’t have to be friends with him, but I really don’t think Patrick has any ulterior motive here.”

“Then why? Why wouldn’t he sink to the same level that the rest of them do?”

Stevie frowns, “Because he doesn’t seem like the type to be cruel. Maybe he’s just good at his job.”

“Clearly not that good.” David grumbles, holding his mug out for a refill and wriggling into a sitting position so that he can drink it.

“Fine, maybe he’s just good.”

“What have I done to deserve good?” David asks sadly.

Stevie just snorts.

“Cheers to that.” she replies, clinking their mugs together with a grin as they both tip their heads back to drink.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before David groans loudly and dramatically.

“I should apologise to Patrick, shouldn’t I?”

“You don’t have to, but it’s the right thing to do,” Stevie says. “Maybe tell him the next time you see him; he doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge.”

“Fine, give me his number, I’ll set something up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is already almost ready to go so this should be updated soon! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always the best part of my day so please let me know what you thought! 📸


	4. The Apology

_“Hello David, this is Patrick. I just wanted to apologise for being extremely brash and unkind to you today at the bistro. It was unnecessary and I’d like to make things right, if that is something that you want too.”_

_“Hi Patrick? I think I called you David. And, and that’s not your name. So, I just wanted to correct my own- my own error there and say that I really do want to make things right between you and me. So, if you just, give me a call back and we can set that up. Oh, my number is--”_

_“Okay hi? I forgot my own number and when I pulled the phone to check it hung up so- I just realised you have my number because I called you, so. Call me back.”_

_“Hi Patrick, I just wanted to tell you that I got your number from my Stevie- my friend, Stevie. She’s my publicist, um, so, she would obviously have your number because you- she has that sort of thing. So yeah, just wanted to make sure you know that. I’m gonna go now.”_

***

“Who exactly is this for again?” David asks, as Stevie pushes him into the car. It’s only a week after the premiere and the argument with his parents, and David is still feeling extremely raw from the whole ordeal.

“The Rose image as a whole, technically. But in practice, this is really for me, because I enjoy watching you suffer.”

David flinches as he buckles into the middle seat, and Alexis starts digging her long nails into his side. “Ow- _uh,_ what are you doing right now?”

“You put Mom and Dad in a bad mood, David. I’m not talking to you right now,” Alexis huffs, turning away from him and crossing her arms.

“What- I put _them_ in a bad mood? What about _me?”_

“Ugh, what about you, David? They told me what happened, and you really need to get over it. You complain when Mom and Dad aren’t involved in our lives, and now you’re complaining that they are?”

“She has a point,” Stevie says, bolting herself in next to him. “Right, let’s go over the schedule. There are going to be five different outfit changes, each photoshoot could take anything from half an hour to two hours depending on how bad you look.”

Stevie pauses and looks up from her tablet to eye Alexis and David up and down.

“Rude,” David mutters.

“Ooh, burn David.”

“We’ll have breaks in between, there are four different interviews you each need to do individually so we will rotate you around as we take breaks.”

“None of them will be--”

“None of them will be recorded, David. I’m one step ahead of you, I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

Alexis snorts, and this time it's David’s elbow digging into her side. She squirms and goes to hit him back, but Stevie holds out a hand to intercept them.

“Who are the interviewers?” Alexis asks, twirling her hair around her finger and looking out of the window to avoid looking at David.

“Um, most of the magazines haven’t confirmed who they are sending but--”

David freezes, waiting for her to tell him the bad news. Or maybe the good news. The news that Patrick will be there, and he will have to apologise to him in person like he promised Stevie only a week before.

“-- you’re in luck. Ted Mullens will be there.”

“Mm, yay for me. Our date last week was like, _super_ cute.”

“Oh, you’re dating a journalist? When did that start?” David asks, turning to fix her with a glare.

Alexis turns to scowl at him, “After the premiere, actually. He’s super cute and super funny and he treats me right. Which is something you would know if you ever focused on anything except yourself.”

“Oof.” Stevie tries to cover her laugh as she taps away at her tablet, silently organising David’s calendar.

“Okay, look. I might have been just a little focused on my own issues recently,” David says, turning to Alexis fully with a glare, “but that’s just because I am in the middle of a court case right now. Plus I have a whole situation going on with Patrick and--”

Alexis turns to him with an excited look of her face before he can take anything back.

“Excuse me, what? What is the situation with Patrick?”

“Nothing. There is no situation with Patrick,” David insists.

“David yelled at him twice, and then called him like, four times while we were drunk and left him a tonne of really embarrassing messages,” Stevie says without looking up from her tablet. “That was a week ago, and he hasn’t sent David any sort of response, and he’s going crazy over it.”

Alexis claps her hands happily and gapes at him, “Oh my God, David, you got ghosted by a reporter. That is like, so embarrassing for you.”

“I'm doing great, thank you so much.”

David holds his arms between his knees in the crowded backseat and clenches his jaw for the rest of the ride to the studio. Thankfully, it’s not a long journey and soon enough they are pulling up, freeing David from the trap that had clearly been set for him.

After a long time spent in hair and make-up, David is pushed out onto the photo set in a black suit to find his family already there. They are dressed to the nines in black and white; his father in a similar suit to his own, while Moira stands in a striped satin dress and various bangles, and Alexis in a long white gown and golden headdress which bounces when she moves.

“David. You look very nice, very snappy in your suit,” Johnny says as he approaches.

David winces a smile and nods. Things have been tense between him and his parents ever since the big fall out; after two days of rotting in his room, he began returning to family dinners in the evenings, but there had been little talking and more awkward silences than usual.

“Yes, well. Thank you.”

They are all corralled onto the black curtained stage, the Rose parents stood in the back while Alexis and David sit on small black squares in the foreground.

The cameras flash, and David focuses on the middle distance before one of the camera men clicks his fingers at him.

“Okay, David? I need you to look less like you’re wishing you were somewhere else and a little more- um, how do I say this, approachable?”

“Okay, I _don’t_ want to be here, and I _don’t_ want you to approach me.”

Someone laughs, and David snaps his head around to see Patrick grinning where he is leaning against the wall in the corner with the group of journalists who are all watching the shoot. He freezes as they catch eyes across the room.

“David, can you focus please?” Stevie says, coming up from his other side. “The quicker this is over the quicker we can all go home.”

Moira rubs her hand across David’s shoulders, and he surprisingly finds the touch relaxing as he turns his attention back to the camera-people.

“Okay, can everyone just-” David waves his arms around at the audience that has manifested on one side of the room, “ _not_ look at me. Thank you so much.”

The camera-people look at each other nervously and all decidedly look away from the scene in front of them.

“Okay, I think we can let the camera-people do their job, David,” Stevie intervenes, “I’ll get everyone else to leave so you can focus.”

Once the journalists and onlookers have all been led out of the room, the shoot goes with far more success. In the first break, David is put in a room with an extremely peppy man who he later discovers is called Ted, and who had somehow convinced his sister to go on a date.

As he heads back towards the dressing area, he passes an open door and hesitates at the sound of his sister’s voice. She’s giggling and poking at Patrick’s shoulder teasingly as he chuckles and nods in response.

“It’s true, isn’t it, Patrick?” She’s saying.

“I couldn’t possibly comment,” Patrick replies even as he smiles back at her. “But anyway, um, back to the question. You said that you find that life in the spotlight doesn’t encroach on your personal life. Could you expand on that?”

Alexis pouts, “I think we’re a little past that, don’t you? So, if you’d like to circle back to _my_ question, which I actually think is far more interesting--”

“--and what question would that be?” David asks from where he’s hovering in the doorway.

“David, I--”

“Oh my God, David. Patrick here was just telling me all about--”A bell tolls somewhere, and they all look around.

“That means we need to go to wardrobe,” David says sternly, “So, you should probably go, like now. They’ve got _a lot_ of work to do.”

Alexis groans and stomps past him, flicking her hair in his face as she does so.

He glares at her as she putters off down the corridor and turns back to Patrick. “I should probably- I’m gonna go and get ready for the next photoshoot. So, sorry for- sorry for, you know.”

David spins on his heel and hurries back to his dressing room from before. The next suit he is bullied into is a gaudy black and silver one with butterflies covering both the jacket and pants. He winces as he dresses in it, the wings reminding him far too much of moths, but powers through it and heads out to the main floor.

Somehow, they survive the rest of the photoshoots without incident. The interviews go about equally as well, most of the questions being focused on Sebastien Raine and the photographs, which David had already prepared for. That is, until he is finally led into Patrick’s room for the final interview of the day.

He walks in cautiously, dragging Stevie in with him and forcing her down into the seat next to him. Patrick is sat on the chair across from him, notebook open in his lap, and smiles at him politely.

“I take it this is your Stevie?” he asks, pointing his pen at her.

“So, you did listen to them,” David responds, raising an eyebrow.

“I did.”

Stevie stands up, “I should go, got lots of places to be, and things to do. You know, some of us have a real job.” She raises her eyebrow at David who tries to pull her back down next to him but fails. “It was nice to see you again, Patrick.”

“Nice to see you, Stevie,” He smiles at her as she walks out of the room without a second glance. “So, David. I just have a couple of questions--”

“I was very drunk,” David intercepts quickly, “--and I just felt so bad that you were- you were so nice to me and I was so rude, and it was really unnecessary, so I just wanted to say that I was sorry- for that.”

“Well, I actually meant- I have some questions for the interview. Which I should probably get through before we run out of time.”

“Oh, okay. I can do that- questions. For the interview. Of course.”

Patrick nods, looking carefully at him one last time before setting up his phone to record their conversation. He goes through an explanation of why he’s recording, as they all do, and promises to turn it off at any point should he request it.

“Okay, David. Well, we can start with an easy question. How are you finding the transition from New York City life to Los Angeles?”

“Oh, well, um--” David flounders for an answer, frowning thoughtfully. “I’m happy to be here, to be with my family, and to escape the city. It’s been a busy year and I just wanted to be in the same place as my sister and my parents for a while.”

“I think anyone can understand that. Is there anything in particular that you miss about New York?”

“The food,” he answers immediately. Patrick looks up from where he’s scribbling notes and smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, it just can’t compare.”

Patrick clicks his pen against the notebook and stops writing, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve actually never been to New York.”

“If you ever do go then I can give you some recommendations. You don’t want to go to all of the popular touristy places, you want to make sure you go to the independent owned businesses. The food is _so_ much better, and they aren’t as overpriced as some of the more popular places.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Patrick grins at him for a second before looking back down at his notes almost bashfully. “So, um, next question. Have you been working on any projects since you arrived in LA?”

“Oh, well. Projects as in like, work?”

“Yes, David. Projects as in like, work,” Patrick replies with a smirk.

“Um, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to talk about my- project,” David says with a wince. “So, can we maybe- um, can we keep that off the record?”

“Sure, I can ask you something else,” Patrick says scanning his notes. “Well, I don’t want to ask any of these because they seem pretty- um, personal.”

“I can deal with personal, hit me with something personal,” David says, leaning over to try and catch a look at the notes.

“Um, okay. Just, don’t feel pressured into answering any of these,” Patrick says. His wide eyes make him seem so innocent and guilty, and David just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and give him a hug. “So, ugh this is so tacky.” He whines, “I promise I didn’t write these ones. Okay, so, I--”

He’s silent for a few more minutes, biting his lip, and David watches him with amusement.

“So, you--”

David can’t help but laugh as Patrick looks up at him with furrowed brows.

“Do you want me to ask myself one of the personal questions that everyone wants to know?”

“You don’t have to do that?”

“No, I can, watch- I can do your job for you,” David says. He straightens his lapels and sits up slightly straighter. _“So, David, you’re generally understood to be a massive whore, who is the hottest celebrity that you’ve slept with?”_

Patrick’s face goes from shock to horror, and then he’s laughing and shaking his head,“I never would have asked you something like that, David.”

“Well I have answered some version of that question at every interview I’ve been at since I stepped back into the world of the internet and interviews. I wouldn’t blame you for asking.”

“I didn’t start this job so that I could harass people, so--”

“What did you start this job for, then?” he asks softly.

“You really _are_ better at this job than I am, aren’t you?” Patrick says, chuckling nervously and fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt, which is rolled past the elbow.

“I can answer your question first if it would make you feel better.”

“I didn’t ask you a--”

“Oscar Isaac.”

Patrick coughs on his breath in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes. “You slept with Oscar Isaac?”

“No,” David says, grinning, “No, I haven’t. But it surprised you, didn’t it?”

“Hm. You wanna know why I got this job?” Patrick asks, suddenly turning serious, “I was stuck in a loop, I’d just proposed to a woman I had no intention of marrying, and I was starting to hate myself.”

David lets himself feel just a short spike of disappointment at the confirmation that Patrick is straight. But he perseveres with the conversation regardless.

“--and you thought that interviewing celebrities for a living might make you feel better because they are literally the worst people on the planet?” David asks slyly, proud to see a relieved smile growing on Patrick’s face.

“Well, not exactly but you make a good point. Honestly, I just wanted to do something so completely out of my comfort range. So, I moved to LA, and I got a job with Ray, and it turns out I’m really good at this job.”

“I did say that you were humble, didn’t I?”

Patrick leans forward. “Ha ha,” he says with an attitude.

“Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“The change, the big move. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Patrick fixes him with a strange look that David can’t quite decipher, “I’m not sure yet. I’m still working on it.”

“Oh.”

They catch eyes for a while, before David breaks it, looking down at his lap and grinning.

“Are you done in here yet?” Stevie asks, suddenly stepping through the door. Both men retreat back into their seats, having not realised how they had both gravitated to lean over the coffee table between them, “David, the photographers want just a couple of individual photos.”

“In this outfit?” David groans, looking down at the wrinkled emerald suit, “Can I not change first?”

“All the other suits have been packed away already,” Stevie says with a shrug, “come on, there is a very large bottle of wine waiting for me at home that I want to get to.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” he says as she nods and hurries out of the room, undoubtedly somewhere incredibly important.

David stands, looking back at Patrick who gets up with him.

“Um, sorry again,” he says quietly, “did you get enough intrusive questions written down?”

“I’ll flesh it out and get confirmation from Stevie before anything is published, don’t worry.”

“Well, um, if you wanted to ask any more questions, then I could give you- I could give you my number?” David asks tentatively. “If that is something that you might- want?”

Patrick grins, “Um, I already have your number on my- work phone, but it wouldn’t hurt to have it on my private phone?”

“Oh, of course, um, here--” David takes the proffered phone and types in his number, peeking up at Patrick as he does so, who is watching the actions with a pleased expression. “There, so now you can ask away, any little questions you might want to ask.”

“I might just take you up on that.”

“Okay, um, so I’m gonna go and finish the last photoshoot.”

“You look great, David,” Patrick says as David heads out of the room.

“So do you. I mean- I, you- thank you. Patrick,” David stutters, flushing red and finally rushing off down the corridor in the direction of Stevie’s raised voice.

***

The last photoshoot passes in a blur of snaps and flashes from the cameras, but David sits through the instructions, obediently smiling and looking where requested.

His hopes of returning home in his own car and spending the rest of the afternoon growing mould in his bed are, unfortunately, ruined by his parents’ arrival in the room. They wait until he has finished before flocking over like a bunch of unwelcome pigeons.

“Hello son. We thought we’d wait for you, maybe get the car back together.” Johnny says, clapping his hands together.

“Why- Why would you do that.”

“Well, because we thought it would be a nice thing to do, to spend some time together.”

“That’s funny, because you seemed to think it would be a nice thing to do to lie to me for years, and you never seemed to feel the need to spend time with me then,” David grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Oh Dav-id, we thought you would have gotten over this little low temperament that you’ve been in for the last week. We already said our apologies.” Moira chimes in.

“Really? Because I have _yet_ to hear one.”

The camera people have largely left the room, looking disinterested with the discussion as they pack away their equipment and head elsewhere, so David has no qualms about having this out here.

“Look, David. We’re sorry for making you feel like we didn’t trust you. We just wanted to make sure you had a safety net in case you got a little- carried away,” Johnny says, looking genuinely guilty.

“Well maybe I didn’t want a safety net. Maybe I wanted to believe that the one thing that I worked really hard on, that I did on my own, was real.”

“We understand that, and we really can’t explain how sorrowful we are to have taken that from you. But you’ll have other opportunities to showcase your talent; Stevie was just telling us about that brand promotion you’re going to be involved in.”

“Are you going to buy all the products as well, just like you brought my gallery patrons?”

As soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, the door to the left of them clicks shut, and David turns around to see a very shocked and mildly concerned looking Patrick hovering in the doorway, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I was just coming to see if David wanted to-- to see how you were, um, and to say goodbye.”

“That’s very kind of you Peter, but I don’t believe that it is usual practice to go snooping around after the interview,” Moira says in her usual patronising lilt.

“No, I know that- so, I should probably just--” Patrick gestures about leaving and nods one more time before backing out of the room. “Bye, David.”

“Bye,” David says softly in response, turning straight back on his parents as soon as they are alone again. “You didn’t have to do that. He was just being polite.”

“Well, I’m sure if we have a conversation with him we’ll be able to convince him not to say anything about the information you just- shared,” Johnny stutters.

“I didn’t share any information. He _overheard_ ,” David says, struggling to keep his temper in check at the insinuation of his own fault in the matter. “You don’t have to worry about that, Patrick won’t write anything about it.”

His parents look unconvinced but nod slowly. David takes pity on them after a moment and waves a hand in the direction of the cars.

“We should probably go then?”

His father in particular looks relieved as David follows them to the car and climbs in with them.

***

After the photoshoot, David doesn’t hear from Patrick again until Stevie brings him the article. It’s simple, focused far more on the other members of the Rose family than on himself apart from a small section in the middle.

_“The eldest Rose sibling, David, details how the move from New York to Los Angeles was a difficult but necessary decision in the wake of the family tragedy. His focus on being close to his sister after her accident in the Maldives a few short months ago, mixed with a clear fondness for his parents explain his motivations clearly. This is a man who has a big heart, and great affection for his family regardless of the consequences which brought them together.”_

The piece goes on to describe in detail the work that Alexis and Moira have been doing for their own projects, and there is no more mention of David. He can’t determine whether or not he should be relieved or offended by this fact, but Stevie encourages him to let it go, arguing that the alternative could have been far worse for his image.

The next day he receives his first text from Patrick.

226-448-4582  
  
Hi David. It was good to see you the other day. Sorry to leave your New York restaurant recommendations out of the article, but maybe you could tell me more about them if you get the chance?  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this chapter! We're getting thereee! Thank you for all the comments! They've been so great at cheering me up and it's so nice to hear what people think! 
> 
> The next chapter should be up quite soon, and I think it's a good one! 📸


	5. The Abbey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to InEveryUniverse and Streetlamp_Sunset again for being amazing beta's and supporting me with this chapter!
> 
> Just to point out the rating has changed to Explicit for this and other chapters to come!

The next weekend finds David in his room at his parents house, reclined on the bed, as usual, texting Patrick.

Ever since their brief connection at the photoshoot, the conversations have been consistent, and seemingly endless. They talked about food, the latest trends, Patrick’s job. The vainest celebrities they had both met, (they had different views, but it was fun to bicker about them.)

The conversation never strayed to anything too personal, but David knew the basics. Patrick proposed to his high school girlfriend, ran away from home to find a new job, and had lived in the city ever since. They had since become good friends, and Patrick raved about how his ex-fiancée, current best friend, was one of the best people he had ever met.

David preached the same way about Stevie. He explained what had happened between them which earned a mix of amusement and pity from Patrick. He talked about his sister, and New York, and his galleries, but never about Sebastien. Never about the court case and never about anything too personal. Patrick was still a journalist after all.

But it’s fun. Patrick is funny, and he’s friendly, and he seems to like talking to David, so they keep it up.

David is pulled out of his thoughts of Patrick by Stevie.

“You need a night out, David. Honestly, all your moping around and messaging Patrick is depressing me,” she says as she forces her way into his room. “Come on, get dressed. Wear something slutty.”

“I’m not messaging Patrick,” he replies, putting his phone face down on the sheets to hide the fact that she’s right. He turns onto his side where he’s lying on the bed and raises a well-manicured eyebrow at her. “Okay, how are we defining slutty?”

Stevie looks up from where she is already digging through the wardrobe, “Something that shows your nipples, preferably. Do you have anything like that?”

“I have several things like that, but what vibe are we talking about?”

“Oooh, like this one,” she replies, pulling out a black and white flowered mesh and lace crop-top, and waving it around in the air. “--and the leather pants, and the combat boots. Do you have any decorative chains?”

David snorts and shakes his head. “What is this for? Where are we going?”

He catches the clothes she’s throwing at him at a clumsy angle and fumbles with them for a bit.

“I’m taking you to _The Abbey_.”

“What is that? It sounds a little Catholic, I don’t know how my Jewish ancestors would react to that,” he says with a teasing grin.

“It’s a gay bar in West Hollywood, and I want to go, and I need someone to go with me. So, you’re going with me tonight.”

“I don’t really know if I want to though,” David says with a whine, “I mean, I lived in New York for like, years. The nightlife here just won’t compare.”

“You haven’t even given it a chance, David. Now, put this on. I’m going to get changed and then we’ll start on the pre-drinks.”

***

It turns out, pre-drinking with Stevie for a night out is very similar to drinking with Stevie for a night in. They are halfway through a large bottle of vodka, both lying across the bed in their clubbing outfits, when they remember that they were supposed to leave half an hour ago.

Stevie almost spits her drink out as she jumps off the bed, taking a moment to check her tight leather pants and dark red mesh top, with a black lacy bra underneath in the mirror.

David whines and stretches himself out across the bed, “Can’t we just stay here? I’m so comfortable and it’s cold outside.”

“It’s the middle of summer in LA, stop whining.”

Stevie tugs at his leg but he barely moves, pouting at her and clinging to the bedsheets like a child.

“David!” she tugs again, this time with her whole weight, and throws herself across the room onto the floor with the power of her attempt. “Ow, David. What the fuck?” she asks, rubbing her ass and frowning at him.

“Ugh, fine. Order the uber then.”

They head out of the room, a clatter of uncoordinated limbs and giggling all the way. They get to the lobby and sit on the stairs to give Stevie a moment to book the car.

“David? Is that you?” Johnny calls, coming out from the kitchen wearing a dark grey striped dressing gown and matching slippers. “Well, look at you two. You’re looking very nice, are you going for a night on the town?”

“No, we’re going to church,” David says, immediately bursting into laughter as Stevie elbows him in the ribs.

“Hi, Mr Rose, we’re just going for a night out. I thought it would be good to get David out of the house for a bit before he started wilting.”

“O- _kay_ \--”

“That’s a very good idea, Stevie. Are you waiting for someone or did you need a lift? I don’t mind driving you; I sat out on the scotch tonight since it was my turn to cook dinner and I didn’t want to risk the chicken.”

“We’re alright thank you Mr Rose, the Uber is on its way.”

“The- what?”

“The taxi, Dad. We booked a taxi and it'll be here in a minute,” David says with a sigh.

“Oh, of course. Well, you know, taxis can be awful expensive nowadays, so- If you need a lift when you’re done then feel free to give me a call and I will come and get you. Moira is a very deep sleeper, but I’ll keep my phone on full volume so that I hear you if you call. Um, maybe you could show me how to turn up the volume before you go.”

Stevie clambers up from the steps and leans over Johnny’s shoulder to turn the volume up on the phone.

“Ah, there we go. So now, if you need me, I’m just a call away.”

“We appreciate that, Mr Rose.”

“Mm, yeah, thank you so much,” David says with a wince. “Oh look, the Uber is here, we’re going. See you later.”

He grabs Stevie’s hand and tugs her towards the door without a back look at his father, who follows them to the porch and waves from the top of the stairs, “Have a good time you two! Stay safe, have fun!”

“Oh my God, get in the car.” David continues to push Stevie into the car door desperately. “Don’t look back, please drive the car, thank you so much.”

The drive to West Hollywood is thankfully short, and soon enough it’s Stevie doing the pushing of David, out of the car and into the street. He laughs, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they wander towards the club. There is no queue, and after a quick search of Stevie’s bag, they are let in.

The music on the inside of the club is pulsing; it’s dark and shadowed, with flashing rainbow lights reflecting off the mirrors on the wall and ceiling and off people’s sequined clothes.

Stevie jumps excitedly and leads David in by the hand, spinning herself under his arm with a laugh as they walk towards the dance floor. Sweaty bodies bump up against them pushing them around as they dance clumsily for a while as they get more familiar with the room.

After sweating out all the alcohol from pre-drinks, David pulls a face at Stevie and leads her towards the bar. It wraps around the whole outside of the room, only ending at the large black platform stage at the back of the room, which people have clambered on to dance and drink on top of.

“Four polar bear shots. Please!” David yells to the bartender over the music, leaning forward to make his voice heard.

While they wait, they watch as a security guard politely shoos the crowd that has gathered at the back of the room off the stage. They do, largely cheering and yelling as a stunning drag queen steps out from behind the velvet curtain.

She has a violent pink wig on, reaching almost to the floor in length, and a silver and purple dress with sequins and feathers covering the shoulders in a dramatic fashion. She wobbled a moment on her heels, letting out a fake sigh of relief as she gets her balance and then throwing out a slut drop in the centre of the stage, earning cheers from the crowds.

“Oh my God,” David says excitedly.

“Whoop!”

“Well hello there,” she says, flipping a tendril of hair over her shoulder. “I’m Velvet Rumble- who are all you Queers?”

The crowd yells back in response, and David and Stevie send each other enthused grins before tipping back their drinks and joining the throng of people crowded around the stage.

The Queen does a lip sync of Lady Gaga, moving around the stage effortlessly, drinking in the attention and dedication of the audience with glee. David and Stevie clap along, drinking their second shot as they watch the dance number come to a close, and ‘Velvet Rumble’ stops at the edge of the stage, peering over it at a couple stood at the corner.

“Well hello you,” she purrs, leaning over a man with a hungry look. “I do believe I’ve found my dinner. What’s your name honey?”

The man says something and seems to be shaking his head, but he’s pushed and pulled up onto the stage, where he blinks shyly under the lights.

“Oh my God,” Stevie mumbles, slapping David’s arm enthusiastically.

“Oh my God,” David agrees, watching as Patrick Brewer grins hesitantly as the Queen publicly teases him in front of the whole room. Despite the circumstance, he looks relatively comfortable on the stage and laughs bemusedly at the situation.

Patrick’s usual neatly put together appearance is more relaxed; so clearly not on the job. His hair is messier, and his button-up has been replaced with a skin-tight white t-shirt which nicely shows off his biceps.

“If you don’t give me your name, I’ll ask for something a little more personal,” she continues, walking her long plastic nails up his tight white t-shirt.

“Um, my name’s Patrick,” he says into her microphone.

“Mm, I can work with that. Who are you here with tonight, Patrick?”

“That’s my best friend- um, Rachel. With the red hair,” he says, pointing towards a woman in the audience who had helped force him onto the stage.

“Ooh, she’s pretty. Hello pretty.”

He laughs as the attention is turned to his friend who looks equally as bashful at the sudden conversation change and looks out at the audience. David can see him squinting against the bright stage lights, and he tries very hard to become invisible, but to no avail.

He sees Patrick’s reaction in slow motion. His eyes widen in shock and then his mouth breaks into a smile as he looks directly at David across the room and waves his hand slightly in his direction.

David looks behind him to see if he’s waving at someone else, but when he turns back, Patrick is laughing silently at him with raised eyebrows. David can feel himself go hot with a blush, and he pulls at the neck of his mesh shirt, suddenly self-conscious.

“Are you standing on my stage ignoring me right now?”

Patrick jumps as the Queen pokes him in the shoulder with her sharp nails.

“Oh sorry, did I need to get down?”

“Uh-huh honey, I asked you a question.”

“Hmm, sorry? What was the question?” Patrick asks, still smiling even as he re-focuses on the conversation.

“I said, are you taken? Else I’m going to have to find you a nice piece of man-candy to spend the evening with.” She dramatically points around to the audience where several people shout as if offering themselves up for the opportunity.

David’s stomach clenches for some reason at the concept of watching Patrick being shipped off with some other man, but before he gets the chance to identify the feeling as jealousy, Patrick replies.

“Ooh,” Patrick stuffs his hands in his awful levy’s and grins bashfully, still looking directly at David, “I, um, I think I’m spoken for.”

David’s jaw drops open and Patrick just shrugs at him. He can feel Stevie beside him clinging to his arm but it’s all faint and far away. All he can feel is Patrick’s attention, and their eye contact.

“Ugh. The pretty ones are always spoken for,” she says with an eye roll, pushing Patrick back off the stage towards his friend and wiggling her shoulders in time to the beginning of the next song. “This one is dedicated to Patrick, and his lucky hunk.”

The club starts to move again as Tina Turner’s ‘Steamy Windows’ pounds out of the speakers, but David is already pulling Stevie back towards the bar.

“David!” she exclaims, trying to pull back at him. “We need to go and find--”

“I need a drink,” he replies.

She finally gives in and lets him drag her over to the bar, where they each down two more shots. “Are you really not going to go and find--”

“Don’t say it,” David interrupts her before she can say his name. He gives a cursory glance around the room and drags her onto the dance floor. “We’re dancing and we’re not talking.”

The Drag show officially ended so now it’s just the music beating from the speakers. David spins Stevie under his arm as the bop up and down together, swinging with heavy limbs.

Eventually, David heads back to the bar for more drinks. He leans against the bar looking around the room, and sighs as he sees Stevie chatting up a very attractive girl with red hair and a tight white dress.

“Seems like you’ve lost your Stevie.”

David jumps as Patrick appears next to him, leaning against the bar so that their shoulders bump. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean she was _my_ \- Stevie. She’s my publicist, Stevie.”

“Ah.”

They stand in silence for a few more minutes before David’s drinks arrive. He turns back to Patrick with a thoughtful look.

“Do you--”

“So, I--” Patrick starts at the same time, stopping and smiling bashfully. “You first.”

“No, you.”

“I was just- I noticed that you kind of disappeared after I was up on the stage, um I didn’t mean to--”

“Yes. I can’t help but feel like that was very uncomfortable for you.”

“Oh, it was,” Patrick says with an uneasy laugh. “I’m generally used to interviewing the centre of attention, not _being_ the centre of attention.”

“Ha. I see that,” David says nodding. “Um, did you maybe want this, since Stevie seems to have found someone to- wow.” He glances across the room to see Stevie has disappeared into the corner with the red head, who is pressed across her front, their faces at a distance which means they are either about to kiss, or just did.

“Yeah. I’ll take the drink. Thank you,” Patrick says, accepting the shot and downing it quickly.

“Should I be worried?” David asks, eyeing the speed with which Patrick finishes it.

“Hm? No, I mean- That’s Rachel,” he says, nodding to the corner without looking again.

“Oh, your friend?”

“Yes, my friend. Um, I also proposed to her once.”

David is extremely close to spitting out his drink, and he takes a moment to swallow without making a mess. “She’s- she’s the woman you never intended on marrying? The childhood one?”

“Yeah, well. I can promise you I’ve only proposed to one woman,” Patrick gestures around at the club, “and it never would have worked.”

“For her either?” David asks, eyeing the way she’s laughing with Stevie.

“Mm, uncertain. She’s working it out still.”

“I see,” David looks at his feet. He can feel Patrick’s eyes on him, and he screws up his mouth to prevent the smile that is apparently automatic at this point, from breaking out.

“You know, I’m glad I ran into you again, David. I was hoping we’d see each other again. I was kind of trying to work up the courage to ask you- to meet me, or something.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Patrick bites his lip and seems to be struggling with something, but when he looks back up his eyes are steeled, and he looks determined.

“Will you come and dance with me?”

“Um, I thought you were spoken for?” David asks, knowing full well that he’s floundering in a desperate attempt to not seem too eager.

“I am,” he says. His eyes are loud, but David can’t seem to work out what they’re saying. “I just don’t think he has spoken for me.”

“Oh, and you think a dance will- _convince_ him?”

“Well, I’m hoping it might give him _some_ idea,” Patrick says slowly. His arm is outstretched for David to take, which he does, and lets himself be led towards the centre of the room.

David tries to keep a respectable distance between the two of them, but Patrick tugs lightly on his arm, and he can’t help but fall into his chest. His arms almost naturally go around his neck while Patrick’s encircle his waist as if they’ve done this dance before.

They stay close as they rock to the music. The sound of Carly Rae Jepson fills the room. David shifts closer to Patrick, feeling his hands stretch out on his back, covering as much of David’s mesh top as possible.

He watches as Patrick’s gaze slips to his lips, and he begins leaning forward towards David as if pulled by a natural current.

“So, who is it that you’re trying to make jealous?” David asks, pretending to look around at those around them and forcing himself to keep a straight face.

“What? _David_ ,” Patrick’s tone is one of utter disbelief, and almost disappointment, as he tries to catch David’s eye.

“I just think I should know who you’re aiming to impress if I’m going to help you with this.”

Patrick blinks as realisation settles in his expression, and he tips his head to the side in an almost frustrated way, “You want to know who I’m trying to impress?”

“Mm, I just want to make sure I’m being helpful,” David says, unable to stop from smirking as it’s clear that Patrick has caught onto his act.

“Come here,” Patrick growls, reaching one hand up from David’s back to thread through the hairs on his head, yanking him in for a crushing kiss.

David is surprised by his force for a moment, reflexively letting go of Patrick’s shoulders before gripping them again with increased pressure. He holds him tightly and takes control of the kiss, deepening it by prying Patrick’s lips open with his tongue and delving inside.

It quickly turns dirty, as Patrick responds with enthusiasm. David can feel vibrations against his lips as Patrick moans into the kiss, tightening his grip in David’s hair and tugging at it. David bucks his hips almost automatically and feels Patrick’s response immediately pushing against his thigh.

When he finally pulls away, he’s panting with exertion, and must look equally as debauched as Patrick, whose lips are pink, and skin is flushed.

He doesn’t seem uncomfortable though, his eyes are shining, and he’s tinged pink, but he’s beaming, and he crowds back into David, a breath away from his mouth and whispers with a cocky look.

“Are you impressed yet?”

“Mhm. Getting there,” David mutters in response, tugging the front of his shirt to pull them back together. This time he’s more prepared and makes sure to kiss more gently. Patrick’s tongue brushes his and his breath catches, leaning in on the search for more- closer- anything to keep Patrick right there against him.

Someone bumps into David; a sweaty press of bodies behind him, and he winces, making Patrick pull back in concern. When he realises, he pulls David closer against him and backs him across the room to the wall.

David makes an even more distressed noise when he hits the painted brick. The number of people in the room dancing and singing and drinking has resulted in a sheen of dampness against the walls, making them feel swampy and disgusting.

Patrick laughs lightly as David clutches tighter onto him to avoid touching the wall, and their lips miss several times as both focus on avoiding the crowd and the wall at the same time.

“Mm, maybe we should--” Patrick starts, after an awkwardly placed kiss hits his cupid’s bow rather than its intended target.

David rocks his body against Patrick in a desperate attempt to stop the words that are about to come out of his mouth. He’s going to say they should cool off, or that this was a mistake, or that it’s unprofessional. Instead, he moans as David pushes his hips against his thigh, lifting one leg to accommodate himself better, and thrusts back.

“Come home with me,” he mumbles.

“W-What?”

“If you-- if you wanted to,” Patrick stutters, pulling back and looking at David with wide, apologetic eyes. “You don’t have to- I won’t be upset if you don’t want- that, you should just do what you want to--”

David cuts him off by crushing their lips together again and nodding against him, “Yes.”

He freezes again, and David’s stomach drops, because he clearly wasn’t expecting that, even though he was the one that asked the question, so he must have wanted it at some point surely, even if he’s regretting that now, and…

“Yeah?”

David nods silently, chewing his bottom lip nervously.

“Okay.”

Patrick steps away, rubbing his hands on his jeans and smiling up at David bashfully. He holds out a hand as an offering, and David takes it, letting Patrick lead him through the crowds towards the exit.

On their way out he spots Stevie, still in the corner with Rachel. She catches his eye as they pass and gives a small thumbs up, gesturing to the girl next to her to signify her own ride home.

They climb into a cab already waiting on the sidewalk still holding hands. Patrick sits in the middle seat for no reason other than to stay plastered to David’s side, and while they don’t do anything untoward in the backseat, it feels extremely intimate to be sat like this together.

When they pull up at the address Patrick had given the driver, David takes a moment to admire the curve of Patrick’s ass as he climbs out of the car, before following him into a building and up several flights of stairs to a small apartment at the top.

It’s nice; humble and unassuming but with a homey atmosphere. It’s clearly made to be comfortable, designed to be lived in, and personal items clutter the surfaces.

Before David gets the opportunity to explore, however, Patrick is standing in front of him. His arms stay at his sides as he looks at David with curious eyes, both desiring and reserved as if waiting for a signal that he is wanted.

David does more than give him a signal. He steps into Patrick’s space, resting their foreheads together and smiling as their noses bump in the middle.

Their lips meet in a chaste kiss, and David smiles as Patrick pulls away just to move his lips lower down.

“I want--” David gasps, as Patrick kisses his jaw; his soft lips scratching over David’s stubble and teeth grazing every millimetre of his skin.

“What do you want?” Patrick replies, turning his head to the side and breathing heavily, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as if that will magically allow him to focus.

“Everything.”

“I’ll give you everything, David,” Patrick replies, cupping his face and kissing him gently. It feels safe, to be in Patrick’s control, to be held by him and under the heat of his attention, “I want to give you everything.”

David makes a desperate sound and leans back in to kiss Patrick again. He feels his knees hit the mattress before he even realises that he’s being pushed backwards but is careful to pull Patrick on top of him as he falls down.

“Sorry, are you--” Patrick tries to apologise when he lands clumsily on top of David, a tangled mess of limbs. But his hands continue to skate across the flimsy fabric of David’s mesh shirt absentmindedly as if he can’t bear to stop feeling him.

David cuts him off by kissing him again, which makes Patrick smile against his mouth.

“This is- good,” he whispers. “Just, come closer.”

Patrick follows the instructions, straddling David and making him aware of the weight of his desire against his hip.

There is a scramble of clothes as they both undress desperately, unwilling to part for long enough to effectively unbutton and remove jeans and shirts. Finally they’re back, bare skin pressed together under the sheets of Patrick’s bed. David can’t help but make soft moaning noises every time they move. They only get more dramatic as Patrick crawls down his body and finally takes him in his mouth.

Instead of judging him for the loud, needy noises, Patrick returns them with equal vigour. The vibrations spread across David’s skin and make him squirm as he focuses his attention on making David increasingly incoherent.

He ups the speed, taking David with impressive eagerness despite his obvious lack of experience, using his hand and tongue to to increase contact. He looks up at David periodically through his eyelashes; his large brown eyes searching for approval which David gives in sweet murmurs of " _Yes",_ and _"So good"_ , and _"More"_.

 _“Patrick--”_ David comes all of a sudden with a cry. On recovering, he immediately pulls Patrick up to lie against him and presses his face into the other man’s neck, sweaty and warm. He wraps his hand around his length and jerks him slowly.

“Please, David,” Patrick moans. David continues moving his hand until Patrick is following him in an almost sobbing noise and coming between them. He tenses for a moment before relaxing completely into David’s side with a sigh.

After a customary attempt at cleaning up, Patrick pulls David back to the bed and under the covers. David pauses, unsure of how to proceed from here, whether Patrick is too drunk to send him away, or whether his presence is welcomed. Either way, apparently cuddling is definitely on the table for tonight as Patrick plasters himself along David with a strong grip on his far bicep, nestling his head into David's chest.

"Thank you, David." He mumbles, already half asleep. David is close behind, his eyes growing heavy from exhaustion and the comfort of the bed.

***

When David wakes up again the apartment is dark apart from the street light filtering in through the thin curtains. He’s so comfortable in the warm sheets that for a moment he considers closing his eyes and going back to sleep, but there’s something that unsettles him as he lays there in silence.

He turns his head on the pillow to see Patrick curled up on his side, one arm resting on David’s bicep, his forehead pressed against his shoulder. He’s making little wheezing noises in his sleep and it’s so adorable that for a moment David forgets that he is currently naked under the sheets.

He is reminded of that fact as Patrick shuffles closer, still asleep, and his bare knee brushes David’s thigh.

Maybe he’ll sleep. But he’s enjoying just looking at Patrick, watching him breathe slowly against the pillow. He’d never expected that he would like someone as much as he likes Patrick; he’s genuinely nice, and funny, and quick witted. His humour complements David’s perfectly but he’s never cruel, like so many have been in the past.

He settles back into position and smiles, closing his eyes, but before he can sleep, a thought occurs to him.

He’s naked in bed with Patrick. Patrick who is a journalist. Patrick who has a--

David frowns and looks up from the pillows to see a camera case perched on the chest of drawers adjacent to the bed. It’s closed and zipped up, but that doesn’t mean it was always like that. That doesn’t mean the camera isn’t somewhere else.

His heart rate speeds up, and he goes straight into fight or flight mode. He tenses, slipping out from under Patrick’s arm and off the bed, pulling on his outfit from the night before.

With one last regretful look at Patrick’s sleeping figure, David does the only thing he’s comfortable with in the moment. He runs away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dipping my toes into a little smut writing so I had to change the rating! Sorry to end on a cliffhanger but David would never just trust Patrick that easily after all that he's gone through so had to add a little bit of angst. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know your feelings and emotions in the comments, or just come and yell at me on tumblr at justwaiting23!
> 
> Another chapter coming soon! 📸


	6. Have a Rosie Day

Patrick  
  
**Today** 07:15 AM  
Hey, I must have been asleep when you left last night, is everything okay?  
**Today** 9:05 AM  
I'm sorry if I did something wrong, can you let me know that you got home safe?  
**Today** 10:43 AM  
Did I do something wrong?  
**Today** 11:52 AM  
Me and Rachel had brunch at this really good café that I think you’d like. Bottomless mimosas! We could go sometime?

David stares at the texts as they arrive, unable to sleep since he arrived home from Patrick’s. His heart is screaming at him for his mistake, for leaving Patrick in such a cruel way, for not letting him know that he’s safe. His head says he got out of there just in time. Who knows when Patrick would have woken up? Evidence of their hook up could have been on the internet in mere hours.

He sighs, putting his phone back face down on the covers and flopping his head into his hands. It chimes again, and he turns up the screen just slightly to peek at the message.

Patrick  
  
Please tell me you're okay? I'm starting to panic.  
  
I'm okay, sorry.  
  
What are you sorry about? Please can you just talk to me? 

David turns his phone off, uses the remote to put Bridget Jones on the large flat screen TV at the foot of his bed, and settles back into the bed.

His Dad joins him an hour later; Bridget Jones has just dyed her leek soup blue, and Johnny Rose is sat on the bed next to his son, in silent companionship, sipping from a mug of tea.

Then comes Alexis, feeling left out, she settles on the floor at the foot of the bed, reaching up every so often to slap at David’s legs and make a dumb comment. David complains about her presence but throws a pillow down for her when he notices she’s flexing her shoulders more than usual.

Moira arrives in all her splendour, reclining herself on David’s other side and handing him a glass of wine, which he accepts with far more enthusiasm than the tea his Dad had offered, and clinks them together before taking a long sip.

The film ends, and so does the sequel. Johnny gets up to go to the kitchen to cook dinner which they all head down to eat together at the table. It’s a simple pasta and red sauce, but Johnny wears a frilly apron and matching oven glove, and it’s such a ridiculous sight that it makes David laugh, and the rest of his family follow his lead.

He goes to bed that night full, and nourished. He cuddles down under the sheets exhausted, and yet sleep evades him. He lies awake, his mind spinning in a downward spiral.

He shouldn’t have left Patrick.

He shouldn’t have gone home with him in the first place.

He should go back.

But he doesn’t know for sure that he made the wrong decision. He’s hurting Patrick. But he can't clear his head enough to make sense of it all. The closer he gets to Patrick the more dangerous it gets, and he should never have started anything with him in the first place.

He checks the clock next to his bed, it reads 3am in harsh green numbers. He tosses and turns all night, but sleep evades him.

***

“I have a suggestion.”

“I’m not going clubbing again. I refuse. I’d rather die,” David replies from where he’s hidden by his bedsheets.

“Okay, not what I was going to say but we will be talking about that at some point,” Stevie says, frowning and holding up a finger in her attempt to be firm. “We’re going to get the ‘Rosie Day’ promotion started.”

“Do I have a choice in this?” David asks, poking just his eyes and his messy hair up from under the duvet, his furrowed eyebrows making his opinion extremely clear.

“No. We’re starting this afternoon. We have a meeting with the brand consultants and then another photoshoot tomorrow.”

“What if I don’t _want_ to do the promotion anymore?”

“You can’t drop out; you already signed the contract,” Stevie sighs.

“I haven’t signed anything.”

“Oh yeah,” she falters. “I need you to sign the contract, and if you don’t then I’ll just forge it anyway so, I highly advise you do.”

“That’s a crime.”

Stevie winces as he throws back the covers and stalks over to the bathroom. “When was the last time you showered, David? You stink.”

He ignores her, slamming the door dramatically and giving himself the privacy to shower and prepare for the day.

When he emerges in a cloud of steam, his hair is perfectly styled, and his palm tree cardigan is tight against his chest. Stevie smiles at him from where she’s lying across his bed on her phone.

“There he is,” she says. It’s then that David realises that she’s not on her phone, she’s on his. “You have a lot of texts from Patrick.”

“Really?” He replies, fiddling with his bracelet nonchalantly. “I haven’t looked at my phone for a while, so- I wouldn’t know.”

“David.”

“What?” He exclaims.

“What happened with Patrick?”

“You know what happened. We hooked up, it was a mistake, and that was it,” he replies quickly, snatching at his phone and sneaking a look at the messages waiting.

Patrick  
  
I know you're mad at me but please will you talk to me so I can explain?  
  
Maybe we went too far, but this wasn't a drunken one-time thing for me. I wouldn't do that to you.  
  
Will you please talk to me?

_“David.”_

He sits down, flipping his phone between his hands.

“You like him, don’t you?” She asks, uncharacteristically gentle as she rests a hand on his forearm, braced on his knees.

“Yes. Yeah, I think, yeah.”

David closes his eyes and covers his face with his hands, as if hiding from the truth.

“So, why aren’t you talking to him?”

He bites his lip and finally turns to look at her. “If I let myself like him, if I tell him that I do, or if I- _lean in_ to this feeling, then I have to make myself vulnerable. I’ve done that before, and now I’m in the middle of a complicated court case over him selling nude photos of me in a gallery.”

“That was different--”

“It wasn’t even _my_ gallery!”

“I know, David,” Stevie rests her head against his shoulder, and they sit in silence for a moment before his phone buzzes again. “How long has it been?”

“What?”

“How long has Patrick been texting you?”

His phone lights up where it’s sat on the mattress between them.

Patrick  
  
I interviewed Oscar Isaac today. I just thought you'd like to know.  
  
He was actually really polite, so he can't go on our list of obnoxious celebrities.  
  
Just made me think of you. Hope you're okay.

“Four days?”

Stevie snorts into his cardigan. “He really isn’t giving up, is he? Looks like you’re not the only one--”

“Stop it, please,” David interrupts, and she does.

“Right. We need to go; you have a meeting with the brand consultant for ‘Rosie Day’ in an hour and it’ll take at least that to get through the traffic,” Stevie says, finally clapping her hands together and pulling David towards the door.

Before she can, he whips out his phone and sends a response before he can second guess himself.

Patrick  
  
Sounds more interesting than the meeting I have to go to today.

***

Stevie wasn’t wrong about the traffic, and they somehow end up rushing into the office ten minutes late. When they arrive, they enter the room to find a middle-aged blonde woman and overly chirpy man chatting in front of several boards of promotion ideas.

“Stevie Budd!” The man says, pointing at her excitedly. “and you must be David Rose. It’s an honour to meet you, we can’t wait to work with you. My name is Bob, and this is my colleague Jocelyn Schitt; ‘Rosie Day’ is her passion project.”

“Wow, really?” David says, forcing a smile as Bob shakes his hand far too vigorously. “Is that what this is?”

“I’m Jocelyn, I’m so thrilled to meet you, David,” she says, taking her turn abusing his hand with a rough grip. “I was so excited when you agreed to come on board.”

“Huh, well, you know. I really believed in the project.”

Stevie elbows him in the ribs and leads him to sit down on the other side of the long table. He does, with just a little resistance just for show.

“Okay, let’s get started!” Jocelyn exclaims. “So, here is the idea.”

She waves at the board. It has photos of the brand aesthetic and logo. They are generic and frankly uninventive; a simple lotus line drawing and green and white colour codes.

The products are simple; facial cleansers, toners and moisturisers. Some face masks and luxury treatments. None of which David would ever dare use but nothing untoward or unhealthy. Nothing that will cause any harm to anyone, and so David nods along and agrees.

“Now, your job, David, is that of endorsement. You are meant to publicly support the products and advertise them using your status.”

“Are we married to the name ‘Rosie Day’?” He asks with a grimace.

“I think it’s pretty good.” Jocelyn says with a smiling nod.

“It really ties the brand to your name,” Bob confirms. “The whole point of the product is to be connected to your image after all.”

“Ah, of course.”

“Now, you’ll be doing a series of photoshoots with the products to create some billboards and magazine articles, as well as the interviews of course.”

“Um, I don’t think we agreed on interviews,” Stevie butts in, looking concerned.

“Well of course there will be interviews,” Jocelyn says, seemingly clueless as she grins at them, her blonde hair bobbing as she moves. “How else would we get the word out?”

“Um--”

“It’s fine,” David whispers. “I can do some interviews. What else do I need to know?”

“We’ll need you to give all control of your social media over to one of our brand consultants who will be taking over posting the endorsements at a regular schedule.”

“What sort of things will they be posting?”

“Well, pictures of the products, things saying how much you like it. We might do some funky little videos--”

Both David and Stevie wince at that and shake their heads at each other. “Mm, nope.”

“Won’t be doing that.”

Bob and Jocelyn continue to be extremely enthusiastic. They spend the next few hours bouncing ideas off the walls with hopeful looks in David’s direction.

David agrees to it all easily, without the energy to dispute or argue on the details. From what he gathers it seems he will have a relatively minor role in the proceedings so it’s easy to accept the agreement.

It’s not what he wanted to do with his life, but it’s also not what he didn’t want, and he supposes considering what his life is now, in LA, it could certainly be worse.

That concept really sinks in as they drive past a large billboard with his sister’s face on their way back to the house.

_“A Little Bit More Alexis? New Season, Weds 8p Sept 14.”_

David leans against the window of the cab and smirks at it.

“Did I ever tell you how grateful I am that you’re my publicist?” David asks, turning to Stevie who sticks her tongue out at him.

“Not often enough. I could have gotten you a gig like that- or maybe shoved you in with Alexis on her show.”

David breaks the first real smile he’s had in days and shakes his head. “You would never.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” she admits with an affectionate roll of her eyes.

He glances down at his phone again to see a message back from Patrick.

Patrick  
  
How did your meeting go?

“You have been texting Patrick, then?” Stevie asks, poking her head over his shoulder to peek a glance at his screen. “Since he apparently knows about your new, confidential project.”

David scoffs. “He doesn’t actually know what it is. I may have said that I had a meeting today.”

“So, you’re still talking to him?”

“Vaguely. Not often. Just, the odd response so that he doesn’t get panicked,” David mutters, putting his phone away to hide it from her prying eyes.

“You shouldn’t lead him along like that if you’re not interested.”

“I’m not--” David trails off, looking down at his fingernails in concentration. “This is really none of your business.”

“I think it is my business if you’re having private conversations with a journalist on the regular.”

David looks up to glare at her but she’s just smiling at him softly.

“I’m joking, David. I know Patrick isn’t just a journalist, otherwise I would have cut this little communication off weeks ago. Before it even started, in fact, since you’re not actually meant to give your number out to journalists.”

“Why did you let me do it then? You gave me his number?”

Stevie shrugs, aiming for nonchalance although her eyes are saying something else. “I don’t know. I like him, I think he could be good for you. If you let him.”

“Hmm, well. That ship has sailed.”

His phone buzzes again.

“Has it really?” Stevie asks, looking pointedly at his pocket.

He is about to give a snarky retort when the radio playing in the background suddenly catches David’s attention; a familiar lilt of someone’s voice, and he turns the volume up.

_“--and what would you say to David Rose if you got the chance to talk to him now?”_

_“Well Lynn, because of the nature of the case I am not allowed any direct contact with Mr Rose. But I guess, if I could speak to him now, I would explain to him my point of view.”_

_“What is your point of view, Mr Raine?”_

_“My relationship with David Rose was one of the lowest points of my life. But that man was in his prime. Now, I have gone through a lot of therapy, and self-discovery in an attempt to better understand myself and my actions.”_

_“If you had the opportunity, do you think you would apologise to David for what you did?”_

_“Here’s the thing, it’s important in relationships such as ours that remorse be internalised. My guilt, if there is any, is a very personal thing, and not something that David should be encumbered by.”_

_“So, you wouldn’t apologise?”_

_“I wouldn’t put the weight of my actions on him. The photos were a very personal thing for me; it was a part of my job, a part of my experience. David was just a way of presenting my lifestyle to the world. A tool for my creation, nothing more.”_

_“Well, you heard it here first folks. I suppose now the ball is in David’s court. You’re listening to--”_

Stevie switches the radio off with a quick click and turns to David.

“You alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be- I mean, it’s a good thing, to know that the nude photos of you have nothing to do with you. That’s- a good thing,” David mumbles, curling in on himself slightly in a defensive position. He covers his face and feels Stevie pulling at his arms.

“David I--”

"I'm so sick of this whole thing. I just want to go home."

"Okay, David."

They drive in silence towards the family home, and David settles in to bed. In the morning, he will start planning, but for now, he just cries, and sleeps. As he does, his phone buzzes on the bedside table, but its message goes unread.

Patrick  
  
You're so much more than that.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a week's break to go to France (and then rush back across the border when the rules changed again), I'm finally back to updating this fic! Thank you for reading, let me know what you think and the next update should be with you shortly! 📸


	7. Repercussions

Fortunately for David, the ‘Rosie Day’ sponsorship is enough of a distraction that he barely even has the time to mope about Sebastien.

Or Patrick, whose messages only increased after the radio interview aired.

David has the vague idea that he should be annoyed by his constant messaging. He has barely responded to any of them, but even a week later, Patrick hasn’t lost steam. He messages about anything and everything except Sebastien.

David messages back every so often, in response to a funny quip or a comment about a celebrity. Patrick seems to gain even more traction from these small replies, but David refuses to open up properly, or talk about what they so desperately need to talk about.

The photoshoot with the products goes pretty well, and the general response to the sponsorship is positive. The social media takeover is a success (thanks to David’s lack of involvement), all that’s left to do is the various interviews.

First, it’s the TV interviews. David goes on Ellen, on Oprah, and various other late-night chat shows. The talk of Sebastien is surprisingly minimal, and David flies through them by the seat of his pants, talking about the brand sponsorship and his family drama. The hosts and audiences laugh, and David smiles his camera smile, and he manages to come across as the perfect combination of charming and slightly aloof.

Oprah is (obviously) incredible, and afterwards he has a full-blown message conversation with Patrick about how amazing it was to meet her.

Patrick  
  
You killed that interview. What was it like to meet Oprah??  
  
she was so down to earth and incredible!  
  
She seemed to really like you!  
you really think that?  
Come on, David. She loved you!  
i told her i loved her backstage, ive never said that to anyone except my parents once and also Mariah Carey  
You met Mariah Carey?  
not technically? i shouted it at her at a concert, that counts right?  
I think it counts as long as you mean it when you say it.  
I haven't seen you at Twyla's Bistro in a while. Maybe we could get breakfast?

David ignores that last message, though it takes considerable self control to turn him down.

Then he goes on the radio. This is less focused on the brand sponsorship, and more on Sebastien, but David manages to force his way through it with vague answers. He somehow gets to the edge of tears on the air, and the hashtags about protecting David Rose are trending again before the radio interview has even ended.

Finally, the most dreaded set of interviews; the Magazine phase.

David is dragged along to the studio with a sick feeling in his stomach. He is deposited in a well-dressed room of a hotel, not unlike that shown in Notting Hill which gives him a small thrill of excitement.

But of course, somewhere out in the universe an entity exists purely to make David’s life harder, and that entity has decided to fuck him over in the form of a very attractive, bashful looking Patrick Brewer entering the room first.

“Oh.” David mutters as the security guard lets him in, reminds him of his ten-minute time limit, and leaves them alone.

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees. “I tried to get someone else to take my place today. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but Ray insisted.”

“I see.”

“You don’t have to-- This is purely professional. I’m not going to force you to talk to me, or anything.”

David smiles slightly at Patrick’s unwavering sense of moral duty, the one consistent part of the man.

“That being said,” he continues, “if you did want to maybe talk about- things. I wouldn’t be averse.”

“Shall we just do the interview and see where that leads us?” David asks softly.

“Yeah. Yes. Okay, the interview.”

Patrick finally takes his seat opposite David, on the hand carved armchair, and straightens his dinner jacket as he looks at his small, ring bound notebook.

From that point on, they are the epitome of a professional working relationship, minus the odd longing look and heated glance between the pair. Patrick keeps raising his pen to his mouth as he writes, drawing attention to the plump bottom lip. David spends too much of the interview trying to work out if he’s doing it on purpose.

“What inspired you to take part in this project?” Patrick asks, writing notes diligently, the crease between his eyebrows deepening in thought. “It’s so different to the things you were doing in New York. Is there something in particular that made you decide to do this?”

“Um, well. The products are really amazing, and the company is inspiring in and of itself. Why _wouldn’t_ I want to be involved?” David asks, through a fake laugh.

Patrick raises one eyebrow and single-handedly shatters David’s resolve. “What do you really think? Off the record.”

“It’s fine. It- it’s a cosmetics brand, and I’m a femme man. It fits. It’s better than the alternative.”

“What’s the alternative?” Patrick asks softly, clicking his pen away again.

“A reality show stunt like Alexis? Or something equally as traumatising I’m sure.”

Patrick purses his lips and looks at David head on. “What would you be doing if you had the choice.”

“What do you mean? I decided to do this?”

“No, I mean, if you had nothing to prove, and no responsibility to appear a certain way. If you weren’t a part of the Rose Family brand. What is it that you want to do?”

This shocks David, who freezes and frowns at the other man for a few minutes. “I- I don’t know what you mean.”

Patrick just shrugs. “It just- it doesn’t seem like this is what you actually want to be doing, it seems like you’re making the best out of a bad situation. I’m just curious what you would be doing if you had the choice.”

David sighs, biting his lip and looking at Patrick with a calculated stare.

“I’ve had some ideas--” He starts slowly but can’t seem to stop the words from flowing out once he’s started. “I liked running a business maybe- maybe a real one. One of my own, that nobody is funding. Products like these but they wouldn’t be mass manufactured they’d be- locally made. Maybe in a niche little store somewhere, with wide windows and a- a sand and stone colour pallet. I could sell essentials and luxury products side-by-side from vendors who hand make them so that they can benefit from the arrangement and the consumer can get everything they want in one space.”

He’s surprised to see that Patrick looks almost impressed by his statement, and immediately tries to cover for the vulnerability he had just revealed. Patrick is there with curious questions before he gets the chance, however.

“What sort of handmade products?”

“Skincare, obviously, and luxuries like massage oils and body milk. Maybe domestic items; plates and bowls and things. Decorations, party essentials, plants. Whatever I could find from trustworthy sources.”

“Hm. Like a general store, but also a really specific store?”

“Yeah,” David says softly. “But that’s ridiculous and impossible, obviously--”

“I don’t think it’s either of those things, David.”

“Yeah, well, it is. This is what I’m doing, and I can’t change that,” David replies, physically straightening himself out and putting his walls back up.

Patrick looks annoyed at this for some reason, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening. “You can always change your situation, David. I know as well as anyone that you’re only trapped by expectations; you could do this store. This idea could really be something.”

“You’re teasing me now.” David says, his stomach clenching in distaste as he deals with the likelihood that Patrick is just leading him on.

“Well if you don’t like this job--”

“I like this job _fine!_ I’m doing what I have to do!” David exclaims suddenly. “There are things that I have to do, and this is one of them! What does it have to do with you?”

“Why are you so set on doing a job that you don’t even _like?”_ Patrick returns, losing his cool as he stands up and waves his hands around frustratedly as a physical representation of his annoyance.

“Oh, I don’t like my job? What about you, you’re doing a job that you’re not even good at!” David returns with equal frustration.

This makes Patrick pause, frowning. “How am I not good at my job, David?”

“Because you are the one person who if you asked about Sebastien Raine, or the photographs, or the court case, then I would tell you. You’re the only one.”

He expects Patrick to get annoyed at this statement, but instead his face just falls, and he looks at David with a hurt expression on his face. “That is exactly the reason I would never ask you that,” he mutters, looking away.

“Oh, for God’s sake, the moral journalist. This is exactly why you shouldn’t be doing this job; you’ve had so many opportunities for a scoop and you never take them.”

“I do take them, David. I just won’t do that to you.”

They are both silent for a moment, Patrick sits back down, looking unsure of himself. David follows his move and sits on the couch opposite him.

“I don’t deserve that. You don’t- I never _asked_ you to do that.”

“I know.” Patrick replies brokenly.

“Do you- is there anything else you need to ask? About the products.”

Patrick sighs, wiping his face with both hands before nodding. “The magazine wants to know, which one of these products do you use the most?”

David looks at the display in the corner thoughtfully. “The under eye cream. It’s made of seaweed.”

“Is that good?”

“I think so? It’s the only one from the brand that I’ve used. That’s off the record.”

That gets a smile to break on Patrick’s face finally.

“Can I ask you a different question?” he asks, putting his notebook away and waiting for David’s approval. “Why did you leave?”

David opens his mouth to reply, to apologise, maybe beg forgiveness. Or maybe to defend his actions and distance himself further. Before he gets the chance to do either of these things, the door opens, and the security guard sticks their head in.

“That’s time up Mr Brewer. If you’d like to follow me.”

“Oh- You don’t have to--”

Before David can argue against this verdict, the next journalist enters and Patrick is ushered out, with one last look back at him before the door swings shut behind him.

“Now, David. I’m sure you’ve been asked this before, but in your own words, how did you feel when you entered Sebastien Raine’s exhibition?”

***

The rest of the interviews speed by in a blur of boring men in boring suits, and women with prying eyes, asking him boring questions about the photos, and Sebastien, and the court case. When David finally escapes, all he wants to do is head home and bury himself in his bed.

Unfortunately, the universe has other plans for him. He steps out of the interview room, expecting to be met by an empty hall, and instead finds a small crowd of people in the centre, none of whom seem to have noticed his entrance.

“Well, I’ll be combining my interview with one from Sebastien Raine’s lawyers. It’ll be far more popular to compare that than to just have the interview of David,” one of the men is saying loudly and brashly.

David recognises him from the third interview, Steven, he thinks his name was. He had been extremely pushy about the photographs and hadn’t even pretended to ask about the products like most of the other journalists had.

“Why are you even here if you don’t want to write about the product sponsorship,” someone replies. David turns his head to see Ted Mullens standing opposite him, his back turned so he can’t see his face. “I mean, the point of these interviews wasn’t to grill David Rose about his private life, he’s doing his job and so should we.”

“I am doing my job. I’m just doing really well at it.”

“Tell that to your ratings,” Ted replies. “Nobody even reads your column anymore.”

There are hoots from the circle, and David can see the first man’s face blooming red. “Yeah, well, they’ll be reading this one. Once I reveal the fact that David Rose posed for the photos and is setting Sebastien Raine up just to increase his own popularity.”

“You have no evidence for that!”

“I don’t need evidence.” Steven shouts. “Look at the guy, he’s asking for everything he gets, going around sleeping with people and throwing himself around. Nobody will need evidence when I tell them how much of a massive--”

Everything moves so quickly then. The man is cut off by another of the journalists swinging his fist and catching the side of his face. David gasps as he recognises Patrick nursing a bruised hand while one of the security guards finally intervenes and leads Steven out of the room. He’s yelling still, only growing more deranged as he spots David standing in the corner.

“You all pity him for nothing,” he yells, as he is led away, likely to be taken to a medical centre. “He’s just another rich boy, throwing his life away and taking whoever he wants down with him.”

David blinks, and is surprised to find his eyes burning with tears. He’s not used to having an emotional reaction to what journalists say about him, but this time it seems to sting. He’s embarrassed, and he’s tired, and Patrick has finally noticed his presence across the room as someone hands him an ice pack for his knuckles.

He can’t move even as Patrick approaches him, looking nervous and upset.

“David, I- you can’t listen to people like that,” he says softly.

Ted seems to get the idea that they need some privacy and starts leading people out of the room, laughing and joking with them as if nothing had happened. Finally, they are alone in the small lobby. They shuffle awkwardly in front of each other before David reaches for the ice pack and starts tending to Patrick’s hand for him.

“He’s not wrong though,” David mutters, taking Patrick’s hand and carefully pressing the ice to it again, watching for any sign of pain from the other man. His palm is supple beneath David’s fingers as he lets him care for his bruised hand, and when David looks up, he’s staring at him with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

David snorts, and gestures down to himself. “Look at me.”

Patrick shakes his head and tries to clench his hand again, wincing and hissing in pain as his right-hand moves. David tuts at him and holds his hand just a little bit firmer to stop him from moving again.

“They’re wrong,” Patrick replies after he’s recovered. “You know they’re wrong, right?”

“I’m well past having my feelings hurt by a couple of people who don’t even know me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

David shrugs. “Think what you like.”

Patrick shakes his head. “David,” he says, hopelessly. “Why did you leave, the other night.”

David blinks in surprise and the question, trying to shrug nonchalantly but likely missing the mark as Patrick’s deep brown eyes lock in on his every movement. “I saw your camera bag. On the side. I wasn’t sure where the camera was,” he whispers.

Patrick is silent for a moment before nodding. “See?”

“See what?”

“They’re all wrong. You’ve not- you’re not anything they say you are. You’ve been treated extremely cruelly, and you have developed some coping mechanisms that make you appear like you don’t care. But you don’t deserve any of it, David.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Patrick takes the ice pack back from David with his other hand and shrugs. “Maybe not. Maybe everything you told me was a lie. Maybe you don’t really like Mariah Carey, and you’re not afraid of disappointing your parents, and you’re not a secret romantic who wants to get married someday. Maybe everything you’d said to me over text and in person over the last month or so has been a lie. But I still think you’re a good person, David Rose.”

“How can you say that? I’m- _damaged goods_ , I don’t--"

“You need help- you need a lot of help, but that doesn’t mean you’re hopeless, David.”

Just when David is sure Patrick is going to turn around and leave, he hesitates for a second more. He leans over and presses a firm, unwavering kiss to David’s cheek before pulling back and steeling himself for a moment.

“You let me know if you ever want any help, David. With your idea for your store, or whatever it is. I’d be honoured to help you with it.”

With that, Patrick turns and walks out of the building, and likely out of David’s life for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed, sorry for the delay in posting there were some things I wanted to work out in this chapter which took a while! The next update should be up soon! 📸


	8. Finding Home

David thinks long and hard about what Patrick said that afternoon. He goes home and rests, sleeping well through the whole night and into the next morning, and when he wakes up, he makes a decision.

He heads down to the kitchen and is unsurprised to find his Dad already stood at the stove, watching eggs cook in the pan with suspicious eyes.

“Ah, David,” he says, turning to greet his son. “Do you know if these eggs are meant to look like this?”

“Like what?”

“Brown around the sides.”

David smiles from where he is peering over his Dad’s shoulder and shakes his head. “I think they’ll be fine, Dad.”

Johnny refocuses his attention on breakfast, giving David room to work himself out. He perches on one of the raised stool seats at the breakfast bar and takes a deep breath.

“Are you alright, son?” Johnny asks, turning to look at him.

David taps on the counter nervously, unsure of how to start this conversation, but ultimately perseveres, closing his eyes for a moment and steeling himself. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Seeming to realise that something important is happening, Johnny turns off the eggs and turns to join his son, standing across the kitchen counter from him.

“I don’t want to do the whole brand sponsorship,” he says slowly, peeking through one eye as if predicting his father is going to react strongly.

“Okay- that’s fine. We can find you something else to do.”

“No, Dad. I don’t want to do it, but I will.”

Johnny looks confused and frowns his expressive eyebrows at the man across from him. “I’m struggling to follow you here, David. What are you trying to say? Whatever it is we can work it out together.”

“I have already agreed to and started the brand sponsorship for ‘Rosie Day’, so I will finish it. I have given up on a lot of things before and I don’t want to be that person that just drops something when they are done with it,” he says slowly. “But after that I don’t want to do anything else in that sort of range. I don’t want to ‘solidify our family image’, I don’t want to be a part of that family image if you continue with it.”

“Is this about the galleries?” Johnny asks. “Because we can help you get set up in a gallery here if that’s what you really want? I know it’s been hard for you not being able to follow your true passions, but we can fix that for you.”

“No, no. I don’t want any of that I want- I want to be out of the public eye.”

“Oh.”

Johnny looks completely shocked at this. His eyebrows are raised but his eyes are soft, and it seems to David that he finally understands what he’s trying to say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want- that I don’t want to be in the family, and I do want that. But I’m sick of living my life constantly worrying that people are going to use whatever I say, whatever I do, and share it with the rest of the world. I know it will be difficult, and will take a while, but I don’t want to be constantly under the judgement of the public.” David takes a deep breath in and looks carefully at his father. “Can you understand that?”

“I- of course, David. Your mother and I, we just want you to be safe, and happy. If this is what you want, then of course we will support you in it.”

“Okay.”

David smiles at his hands, clasped together on the counter in front of him and nods.

“May I ask, though. What is it that you’re intending on doing?”

“I’m not sure yet. I want to get out of LA first, move somewhere I don’t have to worry about being noticed, but that’s for later. I’ll finish the sponsorship first, as per the contract, and then I was thinking, maybe you could help me work out where I want to go?”

For the first time in his life, David looks at his father and sees pure pride shining out from his eyes. It’s a heady feeling, being the source of that reaction, and he lets himself get lost in it for a while, forcing himself to accept that it is something that he deserves.

“I’d be honoured, David,” he says gently. “I already have a few ideas in mind, but we can go over the options together and decide at a later date.”

David nods and grins at him, standing up ready to leave the room.

“Before you go, did you want some eggs?” Johnny asks just as he’s about to walk out.

“Oh, yes. Two please, and some of that toast,” David says, turning back around and returning to the breakfast bar.

***

For the next few weeks, David focuses all his attention on completing the advertising campaign to the best of his ability. If Stevie is surprised by his sudden commitment to his job, she doesn’t say anything, and David suspects that she already has an idea of why he is acting so differently.

He continues to think on what Patrick had said and works on an action plan for his future. He wants to work for something he deserves, he wants to be safe, to know his own worth, and he wants to be honest with other people. He’s sick of hiding in plain sight.

David is not completely sure what this dream life will look like. But whatever he does, he knows now that he wants Patrick to be a part of it.

It’s this realisation that forces him to make the journey to Patrick’s apartment on an evening just a few weeks later.

He knocks on the wooden door, determinedly steeling himself for what to come, and can’t help but feel his breath catch when it swings open revealing just the person David came to see.

Something tries to jump out of his stomach.

Patrick is wearing a grey t-shirt and plaid pyjama trousers. His hair is messy, and he’s rubbing his eye sleepily as he looks at David. His feet are bare.

“You’re not delivering pizza now, are you?” Patrick asks after a moment of silence.

“No, I- am I interrupting?” David asks, looking past the man in the doorway to peer into the flat. It doesn’t seem like he has company, and when he looks back at Patrick he’s smiling slightly as if amused by David’s antics.

“No, David. You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Okay, good.”

They stare at each other for a while longer, before Patrick breaks another grin and shakes his head. “Are you going to say anything, or did you just come to look at me?”

“Yes! I mean- no. Kind of. I should have planned this better.”

“Well, you’re here now, so you could just talk to me?” Patrick offers, looking down at his bare toes as if nervous. “This time.”

That was cruel but fair, and David tips his head to the side, looking Patrick up and down thoughtfully.

“I want your help,” he finally blurts out after a few moments of careful consideration.

“You- what?”

“I want your help- if you’re still offering it, I want it.”

David clenches his fists and looks down, when he peeks back up, Patrick is watching him patiently, one shoulder bracketed against the door frame.

“I’m sorry about- everything that I did,” he finally says. “You were always. I always thought you were nice, and I thought, what have I done to deserve nice? So, I assumed the worst. I assumed you were like everyone else that has been polite to me and that you must be trying to trick me so I- I hurt you, and I didn’t want to do that. I don’t want to do that.”

David takes a deep breath to keep from crying. “But I think I- I want to be vulnerable. I’m willing to be vulnerable. If it means I get you.”

Patrick’s looking at him, pale and surprised. He’s breathing deeply as if he’s the one who just bore his soul, and he looks equally as emotional as David feels. “David, I--”

“No, I- I’ve been thinking about what you said and you’re right. Those people don’t know me. Most people don’t know me. But I never lied to you, and if I’m being honest with myself, what I really want, the thing that will make me really happy, is if I get to be with you.”

“Um, are you Patrick Brewer? I have a deep pan meat feast for you,” a man says from over David’s shoulder. He jumps and turns to see a red uniform and an equally red face.

“Yep, that’s me. Thank you,” Patrick says reaching past David to take the box and offering the pizza delivery man a handful of notes from his pocket.

“Meat feast?” David asks with raised eyebrows. Patrick just shakes his head sternly at him, but he does look amused.

“You should come in,” he says, turning to him and stepping back to offer room for him to enter.

He does, tentatively, and waits at the door.

“I can go, if you wanted to--”

He’s cut off by the weight of Patrick’s silent gaze on him. Patrick turns silently towards the small living area and plops down on the couch, looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

He places the pizza down on the coffee table and makes himself comfortable in his home. For a moment, David thinks it’s some sort of power play, but Patrick is still frowning and clearly thinking hard about something.

“Come on, David,” Patrick says, patting the seat next to him.

David goes slowly and sinks into the seat next to Patrick. Last time he was here he had missed his chance to take in the appearance of the room. Patrick is scattered all around the apartment. In his cheap, generic framed prints, to photographs of his parents and friends, Rachel in particular, scattered on bookshelves, sideboards, and the mantelpiece of the brick fire in the centre of the room. David wonders for a while what one must do to be granted a position of such importance in Patrick’s life.

When he looks back, Patrick is already watching him, half a piece of pizza hung in the air as he chews thoughtfully. David can’t help but chuckle slightly at the sight.

“Hungry?”

“Famished,” Patrick replies, looking at David’s lips but blindly raising the slice of pizza back to his mouth.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended.”

“Would you like some pizza, David?” Patrick asks, gesturing to the box resting on the coffee table.

“I mean- that’s not what I meant, but--” He cuts off as Patrick holds out the rest of the slice to his mouth. David opens his lips cautiously and takes a small bite, chewing slowly and looking at the man sat next to him.

“I’m going to talk now,” Patrick says, his hand resting on David’s knee as he feeds him another bite; larger this time, leaving him unable to reply without revealing a mouthful of half-chewed pizza. “I knew what had happened to you before I got involved, and instead of talking to you about it, I avoided asking, because I thought you might think I was only here for a scoop or something. That was foolish of me.”

“You didn’t--” Patrick shushes David, holding up the pizza again and gesturing for him to take a bite.

“I’m not saying what you did was right, or even remotely fair, but I understand why you did it, and I resolve that if we want this to work- I mean, if we want anything to come of this, we have to start communicating about these things.”

He hesitates again, looking torn as he watches David through hooded eyes.

“And I want this to be something, David. I want- you, too.”

There’s silence, and Patrick peeks up through his eyelashes as David sits there stock still, clearly shocked by the statement.

“Please say something, David.”

It snaps David back to life, who frantically chews the remainder of his mouthful and swallows, nodding and shaking his head simultaneously.

“No- I mean, yes. I want that too. You’re right, we should- communicate, better.”

Silence falls again.

“So, was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about right now?” He asks, giving a teasing smile as Patrick begins to hover closer to him, his gaze flickering up and down David’s face as if uncertain of where to land.

“We should probably confirm that this isn’t just a casual relationship,” he says, finally deciding to look squarely at David’s lips as they hesitate centimetres away from each other.

“Uh huh, not casual, that’s cool. That’s good, this is my ‘not-casual’ sweater,” David replies jokingly, equally distracted by Patrick’s actions. “So, like, you would let me take you on a date sometime?” He asks, walking his fingers up Patrick’s shoulders and grinning at him.

“As long as you let me take you on a date afterwards," Patrick replies, quirking his lips just slightly in amusement.

“Anything you want--” David whispers, as they finally meet in the middle, crashing together as a clumsy clashing of lips and teeth.

Patrick’s hand comes up to hold David’s chin in place as he kisses him long and hard. He shuffles on the sofa to close the distance between them, slotting one knee up and resting it against David’s thigh as he pushes him back to lie across the couch more comfortably.

David sighs at the point of contact and leans further in to return the embrace with vigour, unable to prevent the soft noises spilling out of his lips as Patrick’s tongue finally broaches the crease of his mouth and deepens the kiss.

“I want you, David,” Patrick mumbles against his lips. He sounds desperate, but perhaps not in the way David would hope, and his brow furrows as he presses his face against David’s stubble. “Please, I- I can’t do it again, please--”

“I know,” David tries to soothe him to the best of his ability but finds himself clumsily petting his shoulders and arms in what was meant to be a calming gesture. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve got you, it’s not gonna happen again.”

They pull apart, both flushed half from embarrassment and half from desire. Patrick backs off a little so that David can sit up against the arm and look at him from down the length of the couch.

Finally, David gives in to his reflexes and does the only thing he really wants to do in the moment. He shuffles close again, wraps his arms around Patrick, and hooks his chin over his shoulder in a tight hug. He feels Patrick breathe out a laugh against his neck but just clings on tighter, melting against him as he finally returns the hug.

Patrick smells of sandalwood and something else distinctly him. His chest and bare arms are warm and solid, and his arms return the hug with equal vigour. David breathes in the scent of him and lets himself get lost in the embrace.

They switch between soothing each other, whispering soft words and re-assurances until the pizza is long cold and there is little else to say, except--

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Patrick whispers against David’s shoulder.

“Yes- I, please--” David replies, nodding dramatically and bumping their heads together.

Patrick finally wriggles out of the hug and holds David by the arms, looking at him with longing. David tries to be patient, tries to give Patrick what he needs in his expression and appearance but can’t stop himself from leaning in, eyes trained on Patrick’s lips.

Patrick returns the move and finally they’re kissing again. His mouth is hot and insistent against David’s, pushing and pulling him till they are off the couch and stumbling backwards through the apartment towards Patrick’s bed. David’s knees hit the mattress, and he clings to Patrick like a koala so that he has no choice but to fall down on top of him, bracketing his weight beside David’s head and hovering over him with a surprised but pleased look on his face.

He pauses an inch away from David’s mouth to speak.

“You know, we really don’t have to do anything tonight, David,” he whispers. “I know how hard it can be to trust people, and I don’t want you to push yourself just because we’ve already- just because you feel like we should. I want you to feel comfortable enough to stay here. I really don’t want to wake up alone again.”

The expression on his face is enough for David to know that Patrick is telling the truth. He breathes in deeply, pushing down the guilt and regret he is feeling for leaving before, and lets it slide off him, trying to emulate his surety through his body.

“I know.”

Patrick still looks hesitant as he looks down at David who, to his credit, has managed to lie relaxed and boneless on top of the sheets, staring up with amusement written on his features.

“Okay, I- is there anything I can do to make you feel- comfortable, here?”

David rolls his eyes and tugs at the front of the grey t-shirt until their lips and noses bump together clumsily.

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

Patrick obliges, giving himself over to David in a neatly wrapped package, every single kiss soothing the anxieties and fears he’d had on the journey over.

He takes his time, pressing fond kisses to every bare patch of skin, which increases as he gently pulls at his clothes, finally getting his sweater off and then moving to his jeans. He glances up at David with a questioning look, who just nods, taking deep breaths to try and contain himself better.

“Can I--”

“Please.” David whispers, tipping his head back and gasping as Patrick mouths at him through the fabric of his boxers, pressing little kitten licks to the slight damp patch there.

“I need you to- Can we--?” He moans, pressing his face into David’s crotch and breathing in deeply, seeming unable to put his thoughts into words.

“What do you want?” David asks, carefully stroking the slight rough stubble on Patrick’s cheek, invisible to the average person, but offering the perfect scratch board for his fingers.

Patrick straddles David with his thighs, leaning back and rocking their hips together leisurely, creating ripples of pleasure across David’s body. “I want you to- I want you to fuck me. Please, David- I need you- I need to know that you’re here.”

“Have you ever--?”

Patrick shakes his head. “But I trust you, David. I want that- I want you--”

David shushes him, pulling him down and kissing him softly again, his hands in constant movement over Patrick’s shoulders as if to calm him. “Okay, we’re not going to do that tonight.”

The expression on Patrick’s face is one of pure annoyance. He frowns, and his bottom lip sticks out just slightly in a pout as he looks down at David, stilling his movements but remaining seated against his crotch, the fabric of the seat of his jeans digging into David’s boxers.

“David I--”

“Shh, I know that. I just- not tonight.”

Patrick doesn’t look appeased by this, and just wrinkles his nose at David, shifting his hips again almost petulantly.

“But we could- we could replicate that?” He asks.

Patrick nods, eyes wide, and David can’t help but smile up at him.

“Jeans off please.” He says, enjoying the view as Patrick scrambles to obey, finally clambering back onto David’s lap completely naked.

David pushes him till he’s lying on the bed on his side, facing away from David and gets in position behind him. He carefully layers the inside of his thighs with lube. He kisses the top of Patrick’s spine and is pleased to feel him relax against David’s chest with a soft sigh as he holds him in place by the hips.

Patrick seems more than willing to abandon all control to David, which should be unusual considering how much he has messed the other man around. Instead, it seems almost in character for them. Patrick is trusting David now the same way David is trusting him; to care for him, to look out for his best interests, to give him pleasure.

“How’s this?” He asks, hesitating just a moment longer.

“Good- David. You’re good.”

“Okay, hold still,” David holds Patrick tight to his chest, wrapping his arms around him in a soft hug.

He presses forward and hisses as he feels the soft, pillowed texture of Patrick’s legs enveloping his cock. Patrick gasps in turn and tries to push back against him but David holds him steady, taking his time to savour the initial feeling before finally driving in harder, a soft slapping noise filling the room as they move.

It doesn’t take long, a rhythmic pattern of thrusts combined with his hand jerking Patrick’s cock, and soon enough he is crying out desperately into Patrick’s hairline.

Patrick takes a few more moments until he sighs, looking down at David’s hand and watching the tip of his cock slip in and out of view. He finally gives in and comes gently over his fingers and the bedsheets with a soft groan. David works him through it, pulling Patrick to roll onto his back and reaching down to press his mouth to Patrick’s sensitive cock, cleaning it even as it twitches almost eagerly at his touch.

Patrick flops against the pillows, boneless and sated from his orgasm as he watches David carefully clean them both, fluttering around the apartment to and from the bathroom, before returning and settling them both under the sheets, side-by-side.

“Goodnight, David,” Patrick says warmly, his fingers brushing David’s bare shoulder lightly as he lets sleep take him.

“Goodnight Patrick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing this one so I hope you enjoyed!! Let me know what you thought as usual, and the next chapter should be up soon!! 📸


	9. The Future

When David wakes in the morning it’s to a soft fleeting pressure moving across his shoulder blade where he is lying face-down against the mattress. He cracks one eye open and smiles to find Patrick reclined against his side pressing kisses across the bare skin available to him.

“Mh- Good morning,” David croaks as Patrick beams at him.

“You’re still here,” Patrick mutters, looking at him with awe, his fingers drifting across the bare skin of David’s back.

“Of course I’m still here,” David replies, the statement stirring him fully to wakefulness and leaning up to kiss Patrick’s lips softly. “Where else would I be?”

He feels Patrick shrug against him and tighten his arm around his waist. He returns to kissing David’s shoulders repetitively, moving across the landscape of his skin and sending shivers down his spine as he presses small, affectionate pecks to everywhere he can reach.

“I just wasn’t sure if you were, sure,” Patrick mutters, his hand brushing the bottom of David’s spine almost hesitantly.

“I’m sure.”

David rolls over to his side to kiss Patrick better, pressing the length of their bodies together and smiling as Patrick responds in kind. After a while, he pulls back with furrowed brows as Patrick seems to cling just that little bit too tight to him, as if afraid that David is going to pull away.

“Hey,” David nudges him with his arm to get his attention. “I told you last night I’m not going anywhere. I meant that.”

“I know I just- I just- I was so scared I would wake up and you would be gone,” Patrick whispers, lips still brushing David’s due to their proximity. “I guess I’m just still a little--”

“Patrick, I swear that I am not going to go any- well,” he cuts himself off, tipping his head in thought before he finishes the sentence.

Patrick freezes. “What?”

David bites his lip and his eyes dart around nervously. “I’m um- Well, you know you said we should practice ‘open communication’?” he asks, wincing.

Patrick begins pulling out of their embrace to sit up fully in the bed. David is momentarily distracted by the sheets falling away from him, revealing the expanse of his bare chest. “David, what are we talking about here?”

“Um, so--” David moves to sit up next to him, wringing his hands together nervously. “So, I’ve been thinking a lot, about what you said about doing something that I’m proud of, and- the brand promotion is ending soon.”

“So?”

“Um, so. I was looking to maybe- leave LA and move- somewhere.”

Patrick looks hurt by that, his whole face falls as he shifts under the sheets. “Move?” he asks brokenly. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The tone of the room is inescapably awkward as they both sit there naked in Patrick’s bed.

“So, this is just- a one time- thing then?” Patrick asks, his voice cracking under the strain, he looks like he’s going to cry, and David wants anything that will take that look off his face.

“What? _No!”_ David exclaims, reaching out to pull at Patrick’s arm. He resists only for a moment before letting himself be pulled into David’s arms. David hooks his chin over Patrick’s shoulder and clutches at him. “No, no, this is not how this conversation is meant to go. I don’t--”

Patrick seems to take pity on him as he relaxes into David’s arms, and presses a kiss to his neck.

“Okay, come on,” he says, pulling the sheets back, making David hiss in distaste as he leads him out of the bed. “This sounds like a conversation we should be having over breakfast food.”

“Words to my heart,” David grins as he is pulled across the room to the shower.

***

“Okay, so. Run this by me again,” Patrick says as they sit in opposite booths at Twyla’s Bistro. “You’re leaving, but you don’t know where, or when this is going to happen.”

David chews on his mouthful of pancakes and nods slowly.

“That’s the idea, yes,” he says slowly. “I, um, I’ve spoken to my parents. I don’t want to be a part of the family branding anymore, and I don’t want to be in the public eye anymore, I just want--”

“What do you want, David?”

He smiles as he catches Patrick’s eye across the table. He’s looking at David like he’s saying something amusing, and David leans into it.

“Everything,” he whispers, watching the grin bloom on Patrick’s face, his cheeks tinting red as he looks down at his lap bashfully.

“Yeah?”

“But I want it for myself,” David adds. “I don’t want it for- the world to see.”

“I can understand that.”

They are silent, and Patrick pushes his eggs around his plate looking pensive.

“So, where do you think you’ll go?”

“My Dad has some ideas,” David says, “He said he would talk to me about it once the ‘Rosie Day’ sponsorship is over.”

“When is that?”

“My role in it will be finished in a few weeks.”

“Oh.”

Patrick is biting his lip as if to stop himself from saying something, but David is determined to hear what he has to say. He nudges Patrick’s leg with his foot under the table, gaining his attention, and gives him a questioning look.

“I wish I could say something to convince you to stay,” Patrick says quietly.

“It’s not- I’m not doing this to leave you. In fact, that’s the opposite of what’s happening. I just- I don’t know where to go from here.”

Patrick looks pityingly at him and reaches to take his hand over the table. “Then I will help you work it out. We can work this whole thing out together.”

David nods slowly, tightening his hand in Patrick’s grip. The tone shifts suddenly, and David’s eyes darken as Patrick’s fingers brush against his palm.

“You really mean that?”

“I- of course I mean it, David. I told you before I want- I want this with you. If that is still what you want?”

David pulls at Patrick’s hand until he gets the message. He slips out of his side of the booth and joins David on his, raising his arm to allow him to wrap his arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the skin just below David’s ear.

“We’ll work something out,” Patrick whispers. “I promise.”

“I trust you.”

They eat their food slowly, Patrick feeding David the occasional forkful of his eggs, and constantly pressing pleased kisses to his cheeks as he chews.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” he asks as they finish their meals.

David hums happily, doing a little wiggle as he wipes his mouth with a napkin and turns to better face Patrick. “I’m not sure- what do you have planned?”

“Well, my plan for my day off was to lounge around the apartment in my underwear watching old reruns of Blue Jays games.”

David smiles. “I could be agreeable to most of that,” he says, “If you don’t mind the company?”

“Hm, I don’t know I’ll have to check with--”

Patrick cuts off at the snap of a shutter. He freezes, his eyes wide, and turns around to the sound only to spot a man at the table across the room, holding his camera with no shame, and snapping more photos.

David turns to look at Patrick who has gone pale, and who shuffles away across the booth. David grabs his hand under the table and clutches onto him as they watch Twyla heading over to the man’s table.

He’s never seen her so furious; she wipes her hands on her apron as she points to the door, and the man leaves without a fight, already having got what he came for.

“David, I swear- I didn’t know. This isn’t--”

David shakes his head, still holding on tight to Patrick’s hand and trying to regulate his breathing. “I know- I--”

“I can try and call in some favours, make sure those photos are never published. You don’t have to worry about--”

“It’s too late, it’s already done.”

Patrick’s eyes are shiny with unfallen tears as he looks pleadingly at David, as if afraid of being turned away there and then. David just focuses on his breathing, closing his eyes and screwing up his face.

“Can we go--”

“Yes, I’ll take you back to my apartment. We can go, it’s okay,” Patrick tries to soothe him.

“No- No, can we go home. I just want to go home- please,” David mumbles.

“Oh, I--”

“Please, Patrick.”

“Of course, I’ll take you home. Come on,” he pulls him out of the booth and onto the street, raising a hand as an onslaught of flashing lights greets them.

David gives in all pretence and hugs Patrick from behind in a tight grip as they push through the crowds of photographers and reporters holding up recording devices and shouting questions.

_“David- is it true that Sebastien has recently contacted you in regard to the court case and promised you monetary reparations?”_

“What- no?” David replies, tightening his grip to Patrick’s waist as they spot the Rose family car parked on the road.

_“Who is this, David? Is this a new relationship?”_

_“Mr Brewer, we read somewhere that you are actually a journalist for ‘Ray of Light’ Publications- is it true that you have been following David for a while now trying to get close to him? Is there any reason for this new connection?”_

_“We’ve just had word that Sebastien Raine has been seen in a club with an ex of yours, Jake Long, David. Is this the reason for your sudden presence here today with Peter Brewer?”_

_“Do you have any concerns about sleeping with someone who is also in the news business? Have you not learned your lesson in an extremely expensive court case?”_

Patrick covers David’s arms across his chest with his hands where he remains clinging to his back and leads him to the car. The driver holds the door open, allowing Patrick to push David in first, climbing in after, before they are finally on their way back to the Rose family home.

“Are you alright Mr Rose?” the driver asks, looking back in his rear-view mirror to where David is curled up against Patrick’s chest, taking deep, heaving breaths, tears now running freely down his face in the safety of the tinted windows of the back seat.

Patrick looks hopelessly back, petting the back of David’s head and trying to calm him with reassuring words.

“It’s okay, David. It’s all going to be okay. We’re going to work this out.”

***

They pull up to the Rose house and are immediately met with more photographers at the gates. Thankfully, the driver is well equipped at dealing with crowds, and they make it through the throngs of people in record time, pulling up at the steps to be greeted by David’s family rushing down to meet him.

“David,” Johnny says, as the car door is flung open. “David, come on- let’s get you inside.”

He pulls at David’s arm, trying to get him to let go of Patrick but he double’s down on his grip and shakes his head. “ _No-_ Patrick is coming too.” He says, even despite the hyperventilating that is still wracking his body.

“I’m sure Patrick is just fine to be taken home--”

 _“No,”_ David insists, and his breaths calm as he feels Patrick’s steady presence, his arms tightening around his shoulders in support.

“It’s okay, Mr Rose. I told David I wanted to come back with him.”

Johnny blinks in surprise but has no grounds to argue, moving to make room for Patrick to lead a thoroughly anxious David out onto the gravel and slowly up the stairs towards the house.

There is a flurry of activity as the pair are led up the stairs to David’s room, where he is placed carefully on the edge of his bed, still holding on to Patrick’s waist.

“David, what happened?” Johnny asks, crouching in front of him.

David finally blinks and looks up at his family, still breathing heavily but looking surer of himself.

“Do you have any idea what kind of event may have made these vultures _assault_ you like that- in public?” Moira pushes, “No offense, Pat--”

“Rick. Patrick,” David finishes for her, relaxing slightly and leaning into Patrick’s side. “I shouldn’t have kept going to that café- you reminded me when I got here that I shouldn’t build up routines like that, but I really liked it there.”

“Oh, David--”

“It’s my own fault. I got lazy, we were talking about not being in the public eye, and I just kind of forgot that just because we were talking about it didn’t mean it had already- happened.”

He looks up to see Moira staring at him with shock.

“Out of the- public eye? What do you mean? _John-_ did you know about this?”

“Well yes, Moira. David did speak to me about it. But it’s all still in the works until the promotion is over.”

“So, you’re just going to abandon your family again? Run off with another-- man with a camera? After what happened last time?”

“Okay, Moira. We’ll talk about it another time. David has had quite a day and I’m sure he should take some time to rest,” Johnny interrupts, leading his wife out of the room by the shoulders. “You let us know if you need anything, boys.”

“Thank you, Mr Rose.”

Patrick turns back to David with a sympathetic smile.

“She didn’t mean what she said,” David blurts out. “She just- you know what happened with Sebastien and- I think she just wants me to be careful.”

“I know that. I know. If you’d rather I left, then I can,” Patrick says, brushing a thumb across the shell of David’s ear as if tucking a hair behind it, and looking at him earnestly. “But you must know I have no interest in breaking your trust for something so awful. You understand that, right?”

“I know.”

David initiates. He leans in and kisses Patrick slowly, taking his time to savour the taste of him on his tongue.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he mutters. “I don’t want you to ever leave.”

“Then I’ll never leave,” Patrick says with a shrug, easy as that.

Maybe it is that easy, David thinks as they meet in the middle in another kiss. Maybe if he asks for what he wants, Patrick will do it. If he puts himself out there, then maybe he will get what he’s so desperate for.

“I can’t live like this,” David mutters, pulling away.

Patrick looks surprised by his sudden announcement, but gives him room to retreat, fixing him with a questioning look.

“I can’t keep running away from people or having to hide-- I don’t want to hide anymore.”

Patrick sighs, putting an arm around David’s shoulders and pulling him down so that they are lying across the bed, face-to-face.

“What do you want to do?” he asks, brushing a hand over David’s jaw.

“I want to get out.”

“Do you want to wait until the sponsorship is over?” Patrick asks, going for the logical questions first. It seems that he is working out a plan, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Or do you want to get out now?”

“I don’t know,” David whines, trying to blink away the tears that immediately spring up again at the reminder of his own powerlessness.

“Okay.”

David bites his lip for a moment, before peering over at Patrick with wanting eyes. “Will you come with me?”

“Hm?”

David just stares at him until he seems to comprehend what he’s asking.

“You mean, come with you come with you? Like, to wherever you’re going?”

“I know, I’m sorry. That was too much to ask you. Just-- please pretend I didn’t say that,” David mutters, reaching for him and pulling his head against Patrick’s chest. He startles when Patrick starts to pull away, clutching on to whatever he can grab to try and keep him close.

Patrick relents, and allows David to pull himself back around his torso. “Okay, it’s okay I’m not going anywhere,” he says, petting David’s hair softly. “I just-- Do you really mean that? Do you actually want me to come with you or is this just a spur of the moment thing?”

This time, David pulls away, sitting up and looking at Patrick curiously.

“I always wanted you to come with me, I just didn’t want to ask,” he says simply.

“Really?”

For a moment, David lets himself believe that Patrick looks hopeful at that news. His eyes light up and he seems excited by the prospect.

“I can’t ask you to quit your job for me and uproot your whole life. It is way too soon for that.”

“I already quit my job.”

David blinks in surprise. “I’m sorry, you did what?”

“Before this-- the night you came to my apartment I had called Ray, I already quit my job.”

“Why would you do that?”

Patrick shrugs, looking bashful. “I didn’t want to be a journalist anyway; it was always a stepping stone for me. I didn’t think you were going to contact me, so I was going to head home for a while-- to my parents and regroup.”

“So, you’re moving too?”

“I don’t know, David. I haven’t decided yet. But, I mean, if the offer is still open, my first choice would be to come with you. If you still want me.”

“I still want you.”

“Yeah?”

“So much.”

Patrick lets out a gleeful laugh as he’s pushed onto his back, gaining a lapful of David who straddles him on the large bed, pressing kisses to every bare inch of skin he can get his hands on.

“What’s all this for?” He asks, squirming, but holding a hand to the back of David’s head to encourage him to continue.

“I don’t know, I just-- I think for the first time I saw a future where we could be, happy?”

“I’m gonna make you so happy, David Rose.”

“You fucking better,” David says, letting out a surprised laugh when Patrick kisses him, even as the remnants of tears make their way down his cheeks.

David moves up on Patrick’s lap and connects their lips again in a messy kiss. Their tongues meet in the middle, sending a swirl of sensation. They slow their kisses after a while, unable to forget the fact that they are in the family home as Moira’s voice can be heard from across the house.

Patrick keeps stroking David’s hair to submission, making a bird's nest on his head, but David can’t work up the energy to complain about it as the sensation soothes him to sleep.

He dreams of a little store, and a cafe he could go to every day without being afraid. Of a routine he could follow.

He dreams of a life where he might be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Only one chapter to go!! 📸


	10. Rose Relief Fund

In the end, Schitt’s Creek is the town destined to be David and Patrick’s future. It’s a ridiculous name, and an even more ridiculous place. Together, the pair head down to the town on a scouting mission, only to discover that it is the breeding ground for some of the weirdest people in their lives.

Within their first month of living there, David bumps into Jocelyn Schitt in the street. The woman whom he’d known as a creative business leader, turned out to be a small town homeowner with her husband.

Ray had arrived soon after. After his journalism business failed due to the lack of reporters (or reporter- Patrick was the only one), he had been forced to downgrade, and headed to his hometown, only two blocks down from Patrick and David’s new apartment.

It’s a sweet little apartment. Smaller than David’s bedroom with his parents, but filled to the brim with happy memories, and eventually, with love. David and Patrick make a life there together, hiding from the public eye, and somehow, in the almost six months they have been settled there, nobody has been able to find them.

One morning, the same as any other, David wakes with a groan as the light blares into his face. He cracks an eye open and watches the dust particles dancing in the air, before his view is disrupted by his boyfriend walking over and setting two mugs down on the bedside table.

“Morning sunshine,” he says, clambering back onto the bed on his knees to press a sweet kiss to David’s lips.

“Mm, morning.”

David pulls Patrick close, and slots himself under his boyfriend’s arm.

“I’m nervous,” he whispers as Patrick holds him close, the weight of his arm grounding him in the room, so far away from where Sebastien Raine will be preparing himself to go into court and hear the verdict of an almost nine-month trial.

“I know,” Patrick returns.

“What if we don’t get the result we’re expecting? What if the court turns around and just brushes the whole thing off?”

“Then I’ll be here, and we’ll get through it together.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” David asks the room. He barks a laugh when Patrick digs his fingers into his side and tickles his ribs.

“So much,” Patrick mutters. “It’s early still, you should get some more rest.”

“I don’t think I can,” David replies, the itch of anticipation already making him anxious. “I’m too nervous.”

Patrick lets out a huff of resignation. The air tickles David’s ear and he wriggles away from the sensation with a smile. “Pancakes?”

“Mm, yes please, six would be lovely.”

David closes his eyes again and snuggles back down into the sheets. He tries to hold back the smile as he hears Patrick’s indignant squawk in response.

“I thought you couldn’t sleep anymore!”

“That was before I was promised pancakes.”

Patrick lets out a breathy laugh and tightens his arms momentarily, kissing David’s ear as he moves to stand. “Hey,” he says, nudging David’s arm lightly to get him to turn around and face him. When he does, he places a quick kiss on his lips. “I love you, David.”

“I love you too,” the mumbled response is said more into the pillow than to him, but Patrick will take what he can get and just smiles at his boyfriend for a moment more, before standing up and heading into their kitchen.

He whistles as he putters about, mixing eggs and flour and milk, and greasing a pan. He puts on the radio at a low volume to the easy listening channel, humming along to the soft melodies flowing out of the speaker.

It doesn’t take long for David to get bored in bed alone and joins Patrick in the kitchen. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend from behind and watches as he flips the pancakes, occasionally getting in the way just to get Patrick to grin at him amusedly. He steps in and out of Patrick’s path, pokes things just out of his reach, and clings to his side as he tries to manoeuvre.

Finally, Patrick grows sick of the near constant dancing routine. He puts down his spatula, grabs David by the face and kisses his harshly, sweeping his tongue into his mouth and biting at his lip tantalisingly. When he pulls away, David’s breaths are coming quickly. His skin is flushed, and eyes blown wide, and Patrick deposits him into a chair before returning to the cooking.

David says nothing. He smiles from his seat and ogles Patrick lewdly as they share knowing glances across the room.

All of a sudden, they are both pulled out of their reverie by the radio station.

_“… We have the results of the case here now. After a considerable deliberation, the courts have found Sebastien Raine; former love interest of the mogul David Rose, guilty under the Video Voyeurism Protection Act of taking unwilling photographs of Mr Rose. He also faces two charges under Senate Bill S1719C which is operational under the state of New York for distributing such images under the Revenge Porn Law.”_

“Oh my God,” David mutters, almost dropping his mug of coffee as both he and Patrick freeze.

_“Sebastien Raine will pay just under $2 million in reparations to the Rose estate, effectively pushing him to bankruptcy, as well as six months jail time. We have yet to hear from representatives of Mr Rose, but we are sure that this news is being received with some enthusiasm.”_

The radio presenter moves on to introducing the next track, but David and Patrick remain frozen in the moment, in their little kitchen.

Out of nowhere, a laugh bubbles out of David’s chest. He barks out, holding a hand over his mouth as his emotions explode, and he is both laughing and crying into his palm.

“David, are you--?” Patrick asks, bending down to kneel face to face with him.

“I can’t believe it,” David gasps, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and clinging to him with glee. “I can’t believe it.”

Patrick lets out a sigh of relief on seeing David’s positive response, and tucks his head into his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there.

“I’m so happy for you,” he whispers, kissing the shell of David’s ear as he makes wheezing noises. “What are you going to do with the money?”

David pulls backs, still blinking tears out of his eyes. His face is flushed red and blotchy and he shakes his head as if not comprehending the question. “I don’t know. I didn’t think this far ahead.”

“We could get a house?”

“We can’t do that. I can’t buy a house with Sebastien’s dirty money. Don’t think I haven’t spotted your savings plan for the store profit. It’ll only take a few more years to have enough anyway.”

“What do you want to do with it then?”

David is chewing his lip now. He had never considered that he would actually win money from the court case. At best he had hoped for a positive result, a criminal record for Sebastien, and hopefully some jail time.

But $2 million dollars would be deposited into his bank, and suddenly the thought made him feel sick.

“I don’t think I want the money,” he mutters, his eyes fuzzy as he stares into the middle distance.

“What do you mean-- David you fought this for so long, that money is yours.”

“It doesn’t undo what happened. It doesn’t stop it from happening again. But maybe it could help other people who have been in the same situation.”

“Like, a charity?” Patrick asks, clearly struggling to follow David’s thought pattern.

“I mean, I’ll have to do some research but I’m sure there must be some sort of domestic abuse charity that could do with the money. One that is dealing with situations like what I’ve been in.”

Patrick’s gaze is soft and open; his eyes wide and pouring out love and affection for David in bucketfuls. He takes David’s hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, almost reverent in his display, worshipping his actions and praising him for making the right choice.

“You are something else, David Rose.”

“So you keep telling me,” he replies, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his nose. “Shall we go and open the store?”

Patrick frowns, nonplussed, and shakes his head. “I thought we agreed to keep it closed today?”

“That was because I thought the results could have come in anytime. We already know, I’ll leave my phone off--” Patrick gives a firm nod, “--as you requested so I won’t see anyone else’s reaction. I want to be busy today, let’s go to work.”

Patrick hums for a moment, swaying slightly as he hooks his chin over David’s shoulder and considers it, before finally nodding. “Okay, David. But we have to eat breakfast first.”

***

David isn’t sure whether or not he should be surprised when, at the store, nobody treats him any differently now than before he had won the money. Ronnie comes in and banters with David, leaving with a glare at Patrick. Bob from the garage buys far too many blocks of cheese.

It seems that Schitt’s Creek is unaffected by the news of David’s recent monetary gain.

He’s relieved. If he were back at the house in LA, no doubt he would have already been hounded by reporters looking for the next big scandal.

Instead, he’s hounded by Patrick; his hands constantly brushing David as he passes, sharing fond (and often heated) looks across their store, and engaging in their normal playful banter.

That is, until a long blonde haired woman with an overflowing black cape shadows the doorway, and makes herself known.

“Isn’t this quaint.”

David tenses for a moment, before all the fight drains out of his body, and he grins at his parents and sister standing in the front of his store, looking so out of place it’s almost comedic.

“What are you doing here?” he asks with a soft chuckle, rushing to greet them with a quick hug. Behind them, Stevie lingers looking out of place until David grabs her and wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace.

“We couldn’t leave you alone on your big day, son,” Johnny says simply. “Although, now I see we needn’t have worried. This is quite a place you’ve got here. It’s a shame we haven’t come down to visit before.”

“Well, I did ask you not to, so--”

“I see you’re still-- with Patrick?” he asks tentatively, as if afraid to cause drama in the one place there is none.

“Hi, Mr Rose. Mrs Rose,” Patrick steps forward and shakes their hands like the gentleman he is. “It’s so great to see you again.”

Johnny quickly disperses into the front room to get a better look at all the products sold in the store. Moira, however, hesitates, and gives Patrick a stern looking over. He stands still under her gaze, but he seems to gain her approval as she gives a curt nod, and then a smile, leaning in to press a kiss to each of his cheeks while maintaining a disinterested look.

“You too, dear Pat. We were wondering when our opportunity would come to get to know you a little better.”

“Now, Moira. You know David needed to settle down before we came in and disrupted everything.”

“I know that, John. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen my child so happy, and accomplished.” She looks around the room for the moment and sighs wantingly. “Although I do admit, there could be a little more foot traffic in here. Is it usually this morose?”

“Okay, this is exactly what I was trying to avoid--”

Patrick swoops in for the save, as usual. “Mrs Rose, Mr Rose, why don’t I take you to the cafe and we can get something to eat. You must be hungry from the long journey.”

“That’s a good idea, Patrick. We could certainly do with some grub, although I’m becoming quite a chef myself--”

He’s still talking as Patrick leads the Roses out of the store, Alexis following behind, and raises his eyebrows at David teasingly. Left alone, Stevie turns to David with a calculating look on her face.

“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious, looking down at his outfit with embarrassment as if there could ever be anything wrong with his appearance.

“You’re different.”

“In what way?”

Stevie tips her head to the side for a moment and considers him further. He squirms, and then stops, sighing, and allows her to think.

“Is it possible that maybe David Rose is happy here?” she asks softly.

“Why would you think that?” David tries to ask in a judgemental tone, but his soft smile betrays him at the last minute.

“Because you look it.”

“Fine,” he sighs, “Maybe I have managed to become just a little bit happy here.”

“How?” she asks, no judgement in her tone anymore, just soft hope. “You love the city, you love New York.”

“I love Patrick more,” David replies with a shrug, “--and, I think now I might actually love myself more.”

Stevie makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob, but when she twists her face back towards David her cheeks are dry, and she is stood resolutely with her shoulders back. “It suits you.” She says in a broken voice.

“Oh, this old thing?” David tries to joke, making her snort even as she rubs a hand against her nose pathetically sniffing away emotion. “We should go and join my parents.”

“Yeah, yes. Lead the way.”

David does, pausing to lock the door behind them. When he turns back to Stevie, she’s looking around at the street with curiosity.

“You know, I always thought about downsizing. Maybe I could stay here for a while.”

“I would love that.”

David slings an arm around his best friend’s shoulder as they follow the sound of his mother’s dulcet tones all the way across the street to the little cafe, so reminiscent of Twyla’s Bistro. Inside, his family are laughing together. His parents, and his sister, and Patrick, who turns at the sound of the door, his smile growing ever wider at the sight of David and arms already outstretched to pull him closer to the celebration.

***

David does end up investing the money he earned into a charity; Rose Relief Fund. It’s a charity set up in LA and New York, with plans to expand further, which protects victims of domestic abuse, both physically, by providing safe places to live, as well as financially, by supporting them if they choose to take their abusers to court.

One night, David is just on the edge of sleep. They’ve had a busy day at the store, and he is exhausted from planning for Stevie’s move to Schitt’s Creek. He cuddles up closer to Patrick who has been fiddling with something on his phone for the last half hour, and is about to suggest they get some sleep, when he starts playing a video.

_“We’re here this afternoon to talk to some of the survivors who have benefitted from the Rose Relief Fund. Marie, why don’t you tell your story?”_

_“Thank you, Lynn. Um, I was living with my boyfriend for about six months before it started. It built up slowly; he’d criticise me unnecessarily, tell me I was overreacting about things, blatantly ignore my emotions. One day, he hit me, and I knew I had to get out, so I called the agency and someone was over to help me with my stuff only a few hours later.”_

_“And what are you doing now?”_

_“I’m going to law school, I want to become a judge, help to defend those people like me that really need it.”_

_“That’s incredible, Marie. And what would you say to David Rose and the Relief Fund if you got the chance now?”_

_“Just thank you. I don’t know what sort of situation I would be in if David Rose wasn’t brave enough to make a stand in defense for people like me. I hate to think of what would have happened if I had nowhere to turn.”_

_“Our other guest, Casey, has a very similar story to Mr Rose. Do you want to tell us a bit about what happened, Casey?”_

_“My girlfriend was taking pictures of me without consent. It started as something she told me was cute; she’d take pictures when I was asleep or when I was eating something and dress it up as something adorable, as if to normalise it. Then I found out she’d taken pictures of me getting dressed, and naked, in the shower. There were so many of them. Once I contacted the Relief Fund they set up a case for me to claim legal ownership over the photos, which I now have and they have all been destroyed. Fortunately she didn’t put them anywhere but I’m lucky to have had someone to step in with me before that happened.”_

_“Again, what would you say to David Rose if you ever got the chance?”_

_“I just hope David Rose knows how much what he’s done means to people like us. Just having someone to turn to and be able to ask for legal advice, support, and protection at no cost means so much. He isn’t doing it for his own gain, he’s doing it because he knows how it feels, and it’s the right thing to do.”_

_“You heard it here folks. That’s all we have time for. The contact details for Rose Relief Fund are on the screen now.”_

David heaves a sob as the video finishes. Patrick turns his phone off and throws it onto the bedside table, turning back and pulling David into his arms. He doesn’t resist, digging his head into Patrick’s chest and letting the tears fall.

“You did all that, David. That was all you,” Patrick mutters, his hand petting the back of David’s head reassuringly. “I’m so proud of you.”

David nods, rolling closer to Patrick and tightening his grip to his waist.

“I did that,” he whispers against Patrick’s neck, rolling ever closer to his boyfriend as if to be consumed all together by their embrace.

“You did it David. You won.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking around to the end, it means the world to me!!
> 
> I don't know very much about legal proceedings (I assume that's clear), and for that I apologise.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this ending. Let me know what you thought, and if you are able at all to donate to your local domestic abuse charity then do!! 📸


End file.
